


Skytoucher

by PreciousCosmos



Series: Morro in TLNM!verse [1]
Category: The LEGO Ninjago Movie (2017)
Genre: Gen, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Jaya and Glacier if you squint because it's mostly morro's POV and he doesn't give a crap, Morro is Lloyd's Cousin AU, Possession, Resurrection, Sad with a Happy Ending, Suicidal Themes, Whump, and the Ghost Freaks aren't scared to get violent, but joke's on him there might be some Destiny lmao, but the characters involved don't really think of it that way, like i said it's a happy ending, lloyd's too much of a savior for his own good, morro has shitty parents, morro/kai/others being crass ole teenagers and, rated for fairly graphic depictions of injury and death
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-10
Updated: 2020-03-25
Packaged: 2020-09-24 06:08:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 36,329
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20353648
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PreciousCosmos/pseuds/PreciousCosmos
Summary: Movie-verse: Of course it'd be Lloyd's unnervingly observant emo cousin who's the first to figure out that he's the Green Ninja. Too bad that sends Morro's life spiraling to hell.Meanwhile, a cult of overlooked elemental breakers plot to resurrect a century-old threat.





	1. Prologue: The Winds Change Again

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is written to The Glitch Mob's _"[Love Death Immortality](https://youtu.be/LBZ-3Ugj1AQ)"_ which is where its title comes from. It's both an excellent album and a good tone setter for everything~

Morro spits curses under his breath as he stuffs clothes, books, and an open box of cigarettes into his backpack. If the stupid, old bastard wants him gone so damn bad, then _fine_, he won't come back this time!

He stumbles over his boots lying on the floor before violently shoving them on. Grabbing his phone off the bed, he stomps out of his now old room before stopping short, hand on the doorknob, narrowed eyes trained on the tattered leather cloak hanging up by the door. He used to go everywhere in it, but he hasn't worn it since he was fifteen.

What the hell, he might actually need it now. Snagging it, rolling it under his arm, he heads for the front door.

A glass bottle shatters against the inside after he slams it behind himself. He doesn't hear what his mother screams at his father for doing that because he's already popped in his earbuds, music on full blast.

He treads several blocks down the road, dodging anyone who steps into his periphery. It's like eleven thirty at night, and most of the streetlamps haven't worked in years; however, there's plenty of people who put up their paper lanterns and spooky decorations for Day of the Departed, giving him at least some light. He knows he should be careful, but honestly? He doesn't care if someone wants to mug him while he's not paying attention to his surroundings. In fact, they can just god damn try him tonight. He's gonna have to get real comfortable with life out here anyway.

But really, he doesn't want to sleep on the streets yet.

He sits on the sidewalk and texts his mom's sister if he can stay over. While he waits, he clasps his cloak on.

Aunt Koko responds a few minutes later with a chipper:

<_ Of course, honey! I'm working super late tonight, but Lloyd should be there. We just restocked the snacks if you're hungry_

Her message ends with a green dragon emoji, her favorite.

Slinging his backpack onto his shoulder, he sends a thumbs-up then makes his way to the apartment building. In the outer hallway, he tries the door, but it's locked. He knocks, not hard enough to be pounding on it, but he's making his annoyance known. Ugh, he probably should have let Lloyd know he was on his way.

Groaning, he slides his phone open. Hey, on the bright side, he'll get to lock it and keep his privacy now. The vocalist in his ear crescendos as the damn thing blinks out on him, dead.

That's perfect! He's gotta hunt for his spare key.

Too many minutes later for his frazzled nerves, he finds it deep in his backpack's inside pocket. If Lloyd's sleeping, Morro is gonna kick his stupid ass.

He only half-registers the two pairs of house sandals at his feet.

Inside, all the lights are off. "Lloyd?" he calls, turning on the lamp by the couch. Dropping his backpack, he beelines it for Lloyd's room, resisting the urge to punch the door open. "I swear to god," he starts as he practically barrels in and throws aside the bed's 'cozy curtain' as his cousin called it, in all seriousness, but he's surprised to see it empty. Then he remembers those were sandals he saw, not Lloyd's sneakers. Mkay. So he's not home.

Whatever. Morro wants to be alone right now anyway.

He needs to let Aunt Koko know that he's here so she won't worry, though. Intending to get his charger from his backpack, he turns around, a creeping, 'Did you actually see it when you were digging for the key?' realization dawning on him. He hurries to the bag, throws out all the clothes and books, empties every pocket, moves on to his jacket and jeans pockets. It's just not on him.

He left.

His charger.

At home.

His _former _home.

He curses again. There _has_ to be one here. Out of respect, he avoids his aunt's room, but his cousin's is free game. There's nothing on the desk or in the drawers, so he looks under the bed. Still no cords, but his eye catches something shiny, no, a few somethings. What, are those shuriken? He picks one up. It's heavier than he thinks a toy would be, but it's made of metal, so that figures. He carefully runs a finger over one of the blade edges. Yep, definitely sharp.

...Mkay.

He puts it back how he found it and continues to the living room for his search. The one cord he finds has a plug too big for his phone. Stupid Nindroid-using basic-ass-family—

Fed up and just needing _sound_, he turns on the TV. It's already set on the news, with the butt-chinned anchor even gargling, _"Breaking news!"_ like it's his job or something. Ugh. He's about to click away when an image of the Secret Ninja Force running around in fire and rubble pops up.

_"The Green Ninja has been injured! This was just taken at the site of a minor explosion in east Ninjago's industrial zone. Sources are so far unable to confirm if it was the work of Garmadon, but currently, the damage is being ruled an accident..."_

Of course, _unlike_ everyone else in this city, Morro doesn't really care that much about the color-coded cosplay brigade. Everything he knows about the island's titular celebs was learned against his will, but he does have to kind of respect them considering normal celebrities get paid just to smile at a camera. At least somebody's keeping his freak — but total aesthetical genius — uncle in check.

And it always seems like the green one puts himself on the front lines of that fight. Getting hurt was only a matter of time. Fuzzy video shows him being carried away from the fire by the red ninja and handed off to the white one reaching for him from the Ice Mech's cockpit, the news anchor droning on.

Morro hopes he's okay.

Wait.

Wait, wait, _wait_ a minute here.

If Aunt Koko thinks Lloyd's home, and he's not, then that means he _snuck out_. Morro chuckles out loud. That goodie-two-shoes-pretending-ass idiot is gonna be so busted!

His own troubles forgotten because _this _is just too good, he tosses the remote aside, grabs his notebook from his shit-pile before kicking it all under the couch, and sits in the dining room corner that's hidden from the front door's view to wait. He's got enough light from the window to see what he's writing, but he makes sure to keep himself in the shadow. He's totally gonna catch Lloyd in the act.

Some dude the news must be interviewing rants, _"I wasn't even supposed to be on graveyard shift. I was at home with my wife, then next thing I know, I'm outside the office, and it's on fire, man! And I see the Green Ninja's in there, so I'm like, am I tripping on something or what? All I know is the guy must've saved me! I mean, he's a real hero. This city could use a lot more of them."_

* * *

Lloyd's been a ninja now for like, three, four, six...um, a lot longer than anyone in this city has, but really, it hasn't been that long, so when he calls himself 'green,' he's not just thinking about his call sign or the gi he wears. And, uh, he's probably inhaled too much smoke. What the heck are these masks even good for?

"C'mon, Green! Popsicle says this thing's gonna blow!" Now, Kai's being smart, yelling code-names from several feet away like that. They're not in their mechs, and there's like a hundred news choppers circling in the air, so they can't risk any real names getting picked up and broadcasted all over the place. Oh yeah, he's running far out of what's probably the blast radius, too.

Ten points to Fire Boy. 'Fiya Bwaa.' Red torna****—****

Whoo, that sure is a lot of smoke. Coughing, his throat protests with a shot of agony as he gives a thumbs-up to his retreating squadmate, scrubbing soot out of his eyes.

Okay, the problem with following his best friend out of the danger zone is****—**** It's****—**** it's simple, alright? Lloyd's got one rule, one code of conduct, one darn line of a hopeless fighter's ideal that he's going to make sure carries weight in his heart, his mind, and his fists. Every day he puts on that gi, he repeats it to himself.

_No one dies on his watch._

Simple. So, of course he charges into the burning building. He's gotta make sure nobody's left inside.

He doesn't find anyone, not even the firefighters who must have pulled out ages ago. That's probably a really bad sign for him. Satisfied that he gave it his absolute best, he turns tail and****—****

"H-help! Please!"

See? He was right to go back.

The worker's trapped in a small office that has its door blocked by a patch of fire. A wide window separates him from Lloyd, and he's banging on it with some tool in his hand, but clearly it won't break.

"Use the chair," Lloyd yells. "Hurry, put the legs on it!"

The man complies, pressing the chair at the desk behind him against the window, creating hopefully enough localized tension. Keeping balance, Lloyd kicks the square of glass inside the four points until it finally shatters. The man uses the chair and tool to break it the rest of the way, opening space for him to climb out.

He rambles, "Thank you, ninja. Thank you so much," as Lloyd drags him up and towards the exit.

"No time, just move!"

The fire's burned away a lot of the wooden support structure and drops a metal beam in their path. He's got time to shove the man forward out of the building but has to roll back from the beam's scorching bite. It catches his left arm pretty good. He slaps the fire out and tries to ignore the pain, shouting, "Go, I'll find another way!" at the guy who looks like he's getting ready to try the hero thing.

Lloyd darts out of view to keep that from happening, searching anywhere for an escape route.

He spots another window, kindly cracked from the heat, exposing a firetruck’s flashing lights. He dashes to it and hurtles himself through with his arms up to protect his face from the glass. Funny enough, he's not entirely sure if the window's at ground level or if he's gonna fall down twenty feet, but the asphalt slams into him after just a second, so he counts his idiot blessings.

"Green!" Kai screams again from some distance.

Lloyd hacks up the smoke that chokes the air he's trying to regain from the hard landing, but he pays more attention to just running the frick away, chasing Kai's voice.

He got out. It's all good.

...

Famous last words?

He's thrown back to the ground when a searing heat and deafening noise surge through him, quaking the earth for a mile in every direction.

He pushes up on his hands, making it to his feet next. His heart's pounding harder than a mother, and he's pretty sure his lungs forgot how to work, but nice, he's still good. Kai's running back to him, waving his arms like crazy, and everything's gonna be fine. Nobody's dying out here tonight.

Something like a whistle, a singing stream of wind, sounds behind him as he wavers, unsteady.

_"Run, duck, move, do something! _Don't_ turn around!"_ Uncle Wu's weirdly shrill voice screeches in his head. But he's green, and he whips around instead. He barely has a chance to see the heavy bit of flying concrete before it cracks on his skull.

* * *

His head's held firm against a chilly surface. Kinda hurts a little. His mask isn't making breathing easy either. He coughs twice, something dripping pain into his left eye. He tries to blink it out and notices Zane looking down at him, wide-eyed.

Okay, they're in the Ice Mech somehow. Wasn't he just helping someone? Oh, Popsicle's driving with one hand. That's not safe in the slightest considering the thing uses steering levers, not a wheel. It's making Lloyd sick watching the weird blur between the levers, so he turns his head back over.

Zane might also be talking, but a haze over Lloyd's senses blocks out all noise except for the raging hum of the engine and a dull ring piercing his brain.

He grips the white gi, wishing he was home.

* * *

Somebody's dabbing a warm cloth on his forehead. It's probably Uncle Wu because it's his voice that makes it through the haze. "That's it, Lloyd. Wake up now. You will be just fine."

See? Totes right.


	2. Mind of a Beast Until Kingdom Come

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No wonder you're so stubborn // Nobody ever made you dig deeper  
No wonder you've got demons // Everything you ever did is coming back around  
I can't help you if I'm weaker // You took the honey from the queen bee keeper  
No wonder you have demons // Everyone's got a choice this time around
> 
> ~ The Glitch Mob

Kai has never seen so much blood in his life. It's all over Zane's gi, a big blotch of it where he held onto Lloyd during their race back to the garage. His mom's gonna go ballistic if she sees it. Lloyd's mom, too. Everyone's mom would. A big dang crazy mom-fest over their dumbass kids doing dumbass shit.

He didn't know it was that bad when he grabbed Lloyd. Yeah, the little dude was out cold the second Kai saw that rock hit him, but like, it was dark, and the fire got bigger, and, and they had to get the hell out of there before the paramedics snatched him up. But now Kai wishes that he let them because who gives a crap about secret identities when, when****—****

"I thought it was just a movie trope or something," Nya says, nerves in her voice, and switches the leg she has crossed.

"What?" he asks.

"Head wounds bleeding like that..."

"Yeah, same." He sets his fist on her knee to make her stop shaking the whole bench with the way her leg bounces so fast. It's gonna drive his own worried energy up the wall, energy he's trying damn hard to control right now.

"Means it's not as bad as it looks, right?" she hopes.

It's not like Kai's got a clue one way or the other, but he definitely shares her sentiment. Zane told them Lloyd woke up for a second before passing back out. Apparently, that's really bad. He needs a _real _doctor.

Master Wu's got him sitting against one of the arcade games now, patching him up and snapping in his face to keep him alert. "Worry not, students. He's a tough one, aren't you, Lloyd."

"Y-yeah. M'scrappy." He weakly punches at the air, not fooling anyone, and hisses when Master Wu rubs some kind of clear salve on his burned arm.

Zane's been making weird beeps in place of nervous whimpers, and to be honest, Kai doesn't blame him. He doesn't blame Jay for wanting to huddle in the corner somewhere either.

He'd be doing that stuff too, or worse, if he gave in to the fear, but he can't do that, not when Lloyd probably needs everyone to keep calm. Normally, Kai's the last person to do that. He isn't sure if he wants to consider why he's exercising 'self control' as the master's repeatedly tried to drill into his head. It's just like, what good would losing it be in this situation? It was just a random fire, no dastardly villain behind it, and it's Lloyd's own fault that he's hurt. No target. How's Kai supposed to deal with that?

Cole puts his arm around Zane's shoulders, pulling him away from the group over to the lockers, saying, "Come on, you gotta get out of those clothes."

"Buy him dinner first, sheesh," Kai jokes. Even he can hear the lack of his usual fire in it.

"Yeah, be a gen'leman,” Lloyd calls after them, earning himself a wince. "Ow, _god_...__"

Master Wu has him press the rag to the cut on his head while he wraps his arm in gauze. The kettle he started brewing before they got back whistles when he ties it off. He pours a fresh cup and hands it to Lloyd, still supporting it. "Green tea. It will help with the pain," he says.

Lloyd takes a few swigs with the old master's help, then a couple deep breaths before he nods, signaling that he's good. Better enough at least because he reaches up to brace himself on the game's control panel, trying to stand and grumbling, "I gotta get home."

Nya hums in disapproval, suggesting, "Maybe you should stay here tonight," after Master Wu makes him sit still.

"Can't." He shakes his head as Wu starts putting that salve on it, being forced to stop with the master's careful hand on his face. The bleeding finally gives it a rest, too. Whatever that stuff is, Kai's grateful the old man had it ready. Lloyd shuts his eyes, continuing, "My mom's gettin' back before school. Can't find me gone."

"Finish your tea," Master Wu gently commands.

Dressed in their civvies, Cole and Zane head for the door. Zane's got a blank look on his face while his eyes dart left to right like he's reading something on his hard drive, and Cole hasn't let him go, saying, "I'm taking him to my house. His parents might notice this," he gestures to Zane's distracted state, "but my dad won't." He looks at Lloyd, nodding to him. "Take it easy, man."

"Night, guys," Kai says, giving the two a wave.

After they leave, Nya sighs, "I'll check on Jay," getting up to look for him. They're all pretty shaken tonight.

"Kai, would you," Master Wu says as he pulls Lloyd from the floor.

As asked, Kai takes him over to the lockers to get changed. He's able to slip off his shirt no problem, but Kai helps him put his tee and hoodie on, turning away to give him some privacy with the rest. Once dressed, he shuffles over to Kai's side, using the other for support so he can get his feet in his sneakers. He kneels to tie the laces, and he's unbalanced when he stands back up, his shoulder hitting a locker hard. Kai catches him by the arm.

"Sorry, sorry, I'm good," he says, a little breathless.

"Dude, I think my sis is right," Kai asserts, tugging him upright.

Lloyd leans away from Kai's grip, arguing, "No, I just gotta go home. Please, I wanna go home." His voice falters a bit on the second half.

Yeah, Kai doesn't blame him either. He more than gladly accepted the role of the Fire Ninja because he thought playing hero would be damn awesome. Daring excitement, thrilling heroics, adoring fans, all that. Of course stopping Garmadon's gonna be the icing on the cake, but nah, Lloyd wanted to go and pop his fun-bubble. He adjusts his hold on Lloyd's arm to be more emotional support than physical and says, "Okay, bigshot, I'll get ya' there."

Lloyd kinda just deflates, but it's a happy, smiley action, relief that he's not being held prisoner in the garage all night, and lets Kai walk him back to the main area. Jay's there, standing small behind Nya.

"Hold still," Master Wu says as he meets them. He sticks a layer of thick cotton on Lloyd's head, securing it with some tape. Lloyd puts his hood up, covering the bandage.

Nya looks at Kai, silently questioning if he's going home with her like usual. Kai shakes his head and mouths that he'll catch a tram after he makes sure Lloyd gets to his place fine. "Okay, Jay," she says, whirling around to him and clapping her hands once, "I can give you a ride home if you want."

Despite his stress, Jay blushes bright red, sputtering something about the two of them being on her motorcycle together. She mostly ignores him, smirking in confusion, and brushes her hand over Lloyd's shoulder as she heads out.

"G-Get well soon, Lloyd," Jay mumbles, following her.

"Thanks, buddy." Lloyd moves that way, but Wu steps in front of him.

"Now, nephew," the master says, authoritative. "I'm allowing you to go home to protect your identity, but if your pain worsens, inform your mother immediately. Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir."

"It's cool, Master Wu, I'll look after 'im," Kai pipes in, stopping at the last second before he throws his arm around Lloyd's shoulders. He just puts it at the little dude's back instead, a gentle pat.

The master nods his thanks. "Rest well, my students."

Not too long ago, Lloyd found a nifty way to get back to his apartment, but there's no way he's running across rooftops and the skytram tonight, so the two take the long way ****—**** the sidewalk. Kai keeps in front slightly, glaring in warning at anyone who drifts too close. He glances behind them a lot, just to make sure. The city's hostility towards Lloyd picked up a hell of a lot more since his birthday, when they beat Garmadon back only for him to vow to return. Lloyd's acted pretty off since then, too.

"I'll be fine, Kai, really," he says when they're in a spot where the flow of people dwindles. "I've always healed faster than other kids. I give this like, three days tops."

Kai blinks away from the road, looking at Lloyd completely dumbfounded. "Say what?"

"Right, uh, Mom thinks it's in, um, from Garmadon's DNA or something," he explains, shrugging.

Kai blinks again, several times to process that. He decides it's probably not the weirdest thing ever, compared to the stuff he deals with daily. Heck, it's actually pretty sweet. He laughs, "So your dad's given ya' something cool after all."

Lloyd holds his arm. "I can see it that way, I guess."

"I still think ya' need a doctor, though," Kai says, resuming his vigilance.

"No, man, I swear I'm okay." He hurries ahead of Kai across the street to his building as if to prove it. Kai offers to walk with him to the apartment as well, but Lloyd shakes his head, saying he's got it, adding, "Thanks."

Before he heads on, Kai tells him, "Bro, ya' did good work tonight, but god, if I have to watch my best buddy do something that dumb again****—****"

"I know, I know. No more running into burning buildings. Major noted." Lloyd grins with assurance and goes inside.

"Text me if ya' need anything," Kai hollers before he's out of sight.

He gets about a block away from the station when Nya's motorcycle skids to a stop beside him. She waves, asking, "Need a lift?"

* * *

Morro's started on poem number five, more than his usual average in an hour, when the door finally creaks opens.

Lloyd takes his time shuffling into view, halting at the table to feed his goldfish. He's holding his head, jacket hood up over it, completely oblivious to Morro sitting _right there_.__

"Good evening, Garmadon," Morro lilts. Thoroughly delighted by Lloyd's predictably cued shriek, fish food flinging everywhere, he smirks as he completes the whispered greeting with a forward lean into the light.

Lloyd snaps from being squared up to feigning composure when he sees it's not an assassin come to murder him for his father's crimes but just his asshole cousin. "Morro! Heyyyy." He pulls his hood down lower on his face as if he can hide in it. "What, uh...w-what'cha doing in here?"

"Mmh, the sperm donor kicked me out. Koko said I could crash," he says, stretching to switch on the overhead light. "What are _you _doing out _there_?"

"Oh, right, okay, I was just, um, going for a walk. Like the air feels nice and everything. The stars. Lookin' shiny and barely...visible..." He jumps out of the hole he's digging when his phone vibrates in his hoodie pocket. He slips it out, tapping away as he mutters, "Oh, yep, that's Mom now, uhh, asking if you got here fine...which would have been really nice to know earlier..."

Certainly. "Yeah, mine died before I could text her. Or you." Morro spins his pen, tipping the chair so he can lean back ever so nonchalantly, ankle crossed on his knee.

"Why wouldn't you just...plug it in when you got inside?" Lloyd asks, putting the phone away.

Morro holds out his arms, a theatrical shrug. "Forgot my charger. Just like you _forgot_," he laces his fingers together, "to tell your mama you were going out tonight."

Lloyd laughs, a forced and nervous chuckle. "You-you're not gonna tell her...are you?"

No, he wasn't planning on it. Lloyd could easily rat him out for smoking in return, but it's always a trip seeing his cousin squirm, so he shrugs again, more fully with his shoulders almost touching his ears, and gives him a brow-arched, 'Maaaybe. I haven't decided yet,' look before dropping his hands.

"You can have all my candy," he needlessly bargains. His sweet tooth is way too sugary for Morro's tastes anyway, but he doesn't dispute the offer as Lloyd turns to the kitchen, immediately walking his sandaled toe into the counter. He finger-guns the pain away, rounding the corner. Morro snickers and gets up to follow him.

Lloyd digs around in the bottom cabinet next to the far side of the stove, muttering about which candies he'll miss most but that they're a worthy sacrifice to keep Morro quiet.

Nope, he's not getting out of this that easy. Draping himself over the end of the counter, Morro props his elbows on the sink's higher level, chin rested in his hands. "_So_, what were you really out doing? A girl? Drugs?"

"No!" The little degenerate babbles the word as he slams the cabinet shut, clearly trying to think of another lie. He's not paying attention when he jumps up, landing a perfect launch of his head right into the stove vent's sharp corner. The reaction's instant and entirely excessive — he crumples back to the floor, ripping at his hood and screeching in pain. Well, no, it's more like barely restrained _screaming_.

Eyebrow raised, Morro blinks a few times before going to him, spotting something weird poking through the hood.

It's medical padding taped to his forehead, a huge, black bruise just radiating out around it. He tries to lean away when Morro starts peeling the tape back, but he grabs Lloyd's shoulder, forcing him still. He's furious to find a long, ugly gash that had for sure been bleeding a lot before. It still does a little bit. That shit probably needs _staples_, not a band-aid. "Who did this?" he hisses.

Lloyd's watery-eyed from the pain and says, "Oh my god, Morro, it's nothing. I ran i-into a pole." He bats Morro's prying hand away and folds over himself, taking in deep, controlled breaths. "Y'know, klutzy me..."

"Oh, yeah _right_, liar!" The son of Garmadon's been beat up before, but he's never left a fight with something this bad.

"Okay, y'got me. I was pushed into a pole?" he tries as he gingerly presses the padding back down, which gives Morro a good view of the burns on his cousin's wrist, bandages covering more below his sleeve.

Morro slams his fist against the cabinet, the things inside rattling. "Who the _hell_ did this, Lloyd?"

"No one! I'm _fine_." He's side-eyeing the TV where the news still plasters footage of the Green Ninja getting knocked on his ass. Back and forth, back and forth, like he thinks Morro doesn't notice him doing it. "Mas— Uncle Wu already took a look at it." He blinks hard and gulps like a wave of pain hit him, folding down again.

"You were with...?" Morro backs off to think. The sneaking out and timing coming home. The potentially similar injuries. His other weirdo uncle's lifelong obsession with martial arts. The shuriken under the bed. Even the previously innocuous __Kung Fu Vol. 23__ and __Mechanics 101 __books Lloyd's had in his room for months. Morro casts the screen a glance as well before renewing his suspicious glare at Lloyd who's trying very hard not to look him in the eye. It's so unbelievable that he might have no other choice than to accept the possibility. "Man, do you even know the definition of _subtle_?"

Lloyd cringes, keeping his eyes closed for a moment as he cautiously explains, "The building- It— The firefighters...and the _ninja..._needed help? Gettin' the people out. And I was too close when'it blew up." He hurriedly adds, "But obviously it didn't kill me, okay? See?" He yanks himself up by the counter and stumbles towards his room. "M'_good_."

Morro sits there, watching him. Un. Be. Lievable. "_You're_ the Green freaking Ninja."

Lloyd freezes, then slumps heavy against the fridge as Morro carries on unabated. "Lemme guess! The rest of 'em are martial arts championship rejects. They said you could be some kind of hero, right? I mean, your dad being who he is just makes it so damn poetic. Wait, no. Holy _shit_, Wu put you up to this, didn't he? To get back at his brother!" He clenches his fists and stands, not quite sure how he feels about the revelation, but it's definitely leaning heavily towards _anger_.

Without turning around, Lloyd quietly says, "Please, Morro, can...can we talk about this in th'morning? I just wanna go to bed."

All right, well, Morro figures he can live with that for now. Lloyd looks pathetic enough as it is. He wants this day over, too.

* * *

Maybe a half hour later, he's wrapped in his cloak on the couch and has the TV changed to some late night drama that's put him to sleep. Lloyd crossing in front of it to go lock himself in the bathroom jars him awake. Morro can hear him throwing up.

He's worried, but he's not about to baby the person who's apparently tough enough to moonlight as a ninja. He sits up, though, ready to help if it ends up sounding like he's needed.

The shower turns on, shutting off before the next commercial break. Lloyd doesn't come out for another fifteen or so minutes. When he does, he's only got his blue pajama pants on and leans against the wall instead of going back to his room. "Mor'?" he mumbles, looking blindly around the living room.

"Over here, dude," he says, switching the lamp on.

Lloyd flinches at the sudden light before he makes what's probably supposed to be eye contact. "I think...my head. It..." He touches the soggy, reddening bandage and stares down at the floor, searching for memory in the tile. "D'y'know how I hurt it?"

And there it is, the thing Morro was worried about. Slapping the couch cushion then pointing at Lloyd, he says, "That's it. You're going to the hospital."

"Wha— N'please, Mom'll find out, and—" Holding his hands up like he's protecting himself, he backs into the corner as Morro vaults over the coffee table and strides to him.

"Damn it, Lloyd, get dressed and stop _arguing _with me. Give me your phone." It's reluctantly surrendered to him, still locked when he tries to access the dial pad. He hands it back, huffing, "Open it, genius."

It takes Lloyd too long to remember his passcode, further proof besides the slurring and other memory lapse that he's got something worse than a cut.

Morro rummages in the freezer as he calls up a taxi service, finds a bag of frozen green beans, and brings it to Lloyd where he now sits on the couch. Chest heaving, he just holds the bag in his lap and looks up at Morro, still begging not to go.

Morro's honestly concerned he's about to burst into tears over this, something he knows Lloyd isn't normally inclined to do. "Beans. Head," he orders and turns his attention back to the phone to give the cab driver the address. He surveys the room as he hangs up. The burns shouldn't be too hard for Lloyd to hide from his mom, but he's right. They already know the head injury raises too many questions. There's gotta be something around here that'll work. He stops at the heavy bookshelf beside the couch, regarding it, or more specifically, its hard edge. Hands on his hips, he blows air out his nose. Well, nothing for it.

But before he does unnecessary work, he looks to Lloyd who's shaking, bandaged, burned for this city, squinting in pain at the floor, vegetables pressed to his forehead. He looks more pitiful than Morro can ever remember seeing him, and _thanks to this city_, he looks like that __a _lot_. "Why can't you just tell her?" Morro asks.

Lloyd shrinks and answers, "She'll stop me," craning back up, face switching between pleading and determined, "an' _I'm_ the only one wh'can stop Garmadon."

Looking to the ceiling, Morro sighs, "Okay." He takes down the few breakable objects on the shelf, except for the small red and silver ceramic dragon he'd painted for his aunt when he was a kid. He hates to do it, but there has to be at least a little bit of collateral damage for the story to look believable. It's better for it to be something of his, not theirs.

He grabs the side of the shelf and pushes it over, everything crashing to the floor.

"What're y'_doing_?!" Lloyd shrieks, wincing at his own volume.

"Making you a cover story," he tosses over his shoulder, heading to the bathroom to retrieve the night shirt Lloyd apparently decided he's too good for. He chucks it at Lloyd's chest as he passes and sits next to him so he can put his boots back on. And here he thought the day was so damn close to being over. His laces tied, he notices Lloyd struggling with his last few buttons. He groans and mutters, "Guess I _am _babying you," finishing the job for him.

Lloyd scrunches his brows at the comment but moves his arms and chin out of the way, albeit while trying not to let his embarrassment show.

Morro has to march his stubborn cousin down to the street where they wait for their ride, then open the door and aim his finger like a gun at the seat for Lloyd to catch the hint that he's not playing around. "If you don't get in this car, on god, I will—"

"I get'it. You'll make me."

"You're already making me make you, acting like a damn child," Morro warns but nods, satisfied with Lloyd climbing in. He blocks the roof with his hand to keep the klutz from knocking his head again, sliding in after him. A few minutes down the road, he finally commands, "Call your mom," with an uncertain sigh.

Lloyd pulls her contact up, tapping the call button. "Maybe I should—"

"No, you're gonna let me do the talking," he says, snatching the phone. Running his other hand through his hair, he presses it to his ear, preparing for the incoming meltdown.

_"__Hey, honey, what's up?" _she answers, distracted but voice edged with concern for being called so late while she's working.

"Nah, Aunt Koko, it's me."

_"Oh hi, Morro." _After an uncertain pause, she gasps a little. _"Is something wrong? Where's Lloyd?"_

"He's right here. We— Okay, listen. Please stay calm. I'm taking him to the hospital—"

_"What?!"_ Something clatters on her end._"What happened?"_

"We were wrestling, and I— The bookshelf." He sucks in a breath and takes the plunge. "It fell on him."

_"Oh my god, what do you mean 'wrestling'? _Fighting_? Is he okay? Just give me a second. I'll be right there."_ She's talking a mile a minute, and Lloyd's bunching up his pants in his fists.

"No, please, you don't have to leave work. I already called a cab." He glares at the eavesdropping driver for a second, continuing, "He's not unconscious or anything. It just looks bad, so I wanted to give you the heads up."

Her voice is tighter than normal when she says,_"Let me talk to him."_

He passes the phone over to Lloyd who squeezes his eyes shut as he says, "Heyyy, Mom...Yeah, M'good. _Good_...No! Okay, _I_ star'ed it...S'fine." He grimaces sheepishly at Morro, tucking away into the corner as Aunt Koko's volume slightly increases. "..._No_, Mom."

Morro's stomach drops. He's pretty sure he heard the question for that answer as, 'Did he do it on purpose?' Is she...blaming him? He wasn't really expecting her to respond like that.

"'Kay...Love y'too." They hang up. He clutches the phone in his lap, looking at Morro with apprehension. "Y'didn't have t'do that. She's gonna be mad a'you."

"Yeah, well, that's not your problem, is it? Stop talking." He hunches down in his own corner, crossing his arms and muttering, "You sound like a five year old."

Irritated, probably downright miserable, Lloyd huffs and stares out the window, rubbing his head.

Morro closes his eyes to the stab of guilt he suddenly gets for the mean comments he's been making, entirely uncalled for given the context. It's not Lloyd's fault. He got hurt _saving _people, and Morro knows he's just scared and worrying about everything, including his cousin now.

He pushes himself up so he can put his arm around Lloyd's shoulders. They both allow it to be left there until the hospital pulls into view.

* * *

Kai's in bed, his phone pressed to his cheek after he conked out in the middle of an 'explosions gone wrong' video, when it buzzes loud, blasting his eyes with light. Popping his head up, he squints at whoever's texting him at exactly one in the dang AM, knowing who it is before the visual even focuses.

< _kai..._

He already doesn't like the sound of this.

> _Yo whats wrong?_

< _i messed up bigtime....._

Sighing, Kai shuts his eyes for a second, sitting up as the phone buzzes again, repeatedly.

< _my cousin wS here  
_

< _morro. __you know him rihht?_

< _right_

He can't place the name, but he's vaguely aware of a family member of Lloyd's in the upper grade. The dude's got stupid hair and keeps his distance from people. Actually, he's been a no-show at school lately, too. Kai comes up with an easy way to memorize the name in case he needs it later.

> _I guess?_

The dots pop up and down, an uncertain pattern, before Lloyd finally spits out what the big issue is.

< _he knows who i am. didnt tell him an ything_

Kai can't help huffing a laugh. What a dumb thing to get worked up over, but he did hit his head pretty hard.

> _Well heck lloyd I'd hope he knows who his own fam is by now  
_

He gets yelled at instantly.

< _no!_

< _not what I mean! you know!_

_Oh_. Shit.

> _How???_

The message says Lloyd read it, but like ten minutes go by without an answer back from him.

> _?????_

< _sorry idk_

He takes a long time typing something else, so Kai forces himself to be patient. A few hairs may or may not get pulled out.

< _he got on my case n squeezed it out of me , idk what to do. hes weird about this kind of stuff. idk if hes gonna yell my mom or not. what am i supposed to doabout thiis_

Kai starts tapping out the early stages of a counter plan and an assurance to make Lloyd chill out. Another message pops up before he finishes it.

< _i fell really bad man_

He knows it's probably a misspelling, but he doesn't want to risk it in case Lloyd actually did trip or something. He erases what he'd been typing, changing it to:

_> "Fell"?  
_

Lloyd takes a bit to figure that out.

_< feel*_

Right. That's probably an understatement. Lloyd's never been super meticulous with his texting, but he doesn't make this many typos either.

> _Should have ur cuz take u to the hospital if ur feeling like that dude_

Lloyd reads it, and more unresponsive minutes pass.

> _Tell me if ur going or not_

More nerve-wracking minutes, this time without Lloyd opening the message.

> _Lloyd???_

An hour of radio silence goes by.

Kai really should go back to bed, maybe Lloyd already has, but his nerves won't leave him alone. Nya can't sleep either and helps him try to get a response out of their little buddy, but she's ignored, too. Though it's after two, they can't take it anymore. Maybe a call will get his attention, but it's an unfamiliar voice that picks up.

* * *

Yep, it's definitely well past two in the morning, and Morro's eyes blur as he tries not to slide out of the waiting room chair, so when Lloyd's phone vibrates, he only sees the "K" in the contact name and answers it, intelligently assuming it's Aunt Koko. "Hey, we're here. They said they didn't need to do a scan, just—"

_"Uh, Lloyd?"_ A definitely not female voice says. Distantly, the guy mutters, _"I don't have the wrong number,"_ before it sounds like his mouth returns to the mic. _"Who is this, and why do you have my friend's phone?"_

"Um, his cousin. Who's this?"

_"Oh! I'm Kai. We're buds from class. Is, uh, is Lloyd okay?"_

Morro narrows his eyes. This guy who's calling at _two in the god damn morning_ to ask that seems familiar. His brain sets his blood on fire as it connects a few dots, and he sneers, "Yeah, dude, he's fine. He just got himself a little concussion tonight and had to go on an adventure to the ER. It's great to hear that his _friends _are so concerned, though. You guys are doing an awesome job looking out for him!"

Kai awkwardly coughs, inhales like he's about respond, but a barely audible female voice interrupts him with, _"What's he saying?"_

His voice pulls away, telling her,_"Not Lloyd. The cousin guy. I think his name's like, Oday or Ester? Something, I dunno."_

_"I don't think that's it," _the girl says, incredulous.

Clear again. _"Yo, man, what's your name?"_

"...Morro," he grinds.

_"Oh yeah!" _Kai chuckles 'to-_morrow_'__ under his breath, making Morro's proverbial feathers ruffle. _"Anyway, he texted me earlier and was makin' a bunch of typos, so I told 'im to go see a doctor if—"_

_"Wait, you know what a typo is?"_ the girl gasps.

_"No, duh, I know what 'typographical errors' are, sis. I make solid C, C minuses in English. What grades do _you _make?" _

_"Hah! C plus!"_

Morro is too tired for this stupid shit. He hangs up on them. Three seconds later, Kai's calling back. "What?" he snaps at him.

_"Sorry, uh,"_ he sighs, voice sobering. _"Well, look, I don't wanna impose or nothing, but if y'all are still there, can we come by an' visit him?"_

Morro leans forward, pushing his hair back before letting it fall in his face. Yeah, he _would _like to size this jackass up and give him a real piece of his mind. "Sure, you do that."

About twenty minutes later, Morro's suspicions are confirmed when he recognizes a pair of twins shuffling into the waiting room. There's only so many people who hang out with Lloyd. Just _who _the ninja are becomes as obvious as their brightly trimmed uniforms when there's enough clues to know what to look for: the tryhard girl, the guy who never takes his headphones off, the one freak who put the school on lockdown because he'd literally emitted a hyper-realistic tornado siren for,_"Apologies, the next continent over..."_

Morro's not sure then if Kai is the blue or the red one. He could figure it out with just a shred more thought, but he honestly doesn't give a single crap about it.

He marches over to them, purposefully bumping his shoulder against Kai's and grabbing him by the elbow. The guy struggles for a moment before relaxing, recognizing Morro as someone he's seen around before. "It's cool, Nya," he says to his sister and lets himself to be dragged somewhere secluded. He doesn't stop Morro from shoving him against the wall, just fixes him with a serious but patient stare from where he's got almost a head more of height despite the year Morro has on him.

The body under the blade of Morro's arm is muscular, tense, and even if he didn't know better about the guy's 'extracurricular activities,' he has no doubts he'd lose a fight against him. But they both know he's just here to _talk_, so he talks. "Let me make this as crystal fucking clear as I can. I don't care who you think you are or what your place is on that little team of yours, _you _don't let this kind of shit happen to him. You're just there to watch his back. So. Watch. It." He raps his fist on Kai's chest for each word. "Because if something like this _ever _happens again, get used to always watching your own, too."

There's silence for a moment. Glassy-eyed, Kai's expression has already settled into narrow understanding, his mouth in a thin line. When he responds, there's no 'he knew the risks' or 'mind your business' for the command; no shove backs or punches for the threat; just, "I'm sorry," and, "I know." Based on what Morro's seen of him at school, it's a face and a string of words that aren't natural for the kind of guy he comes across as. But then again, the Green Ninja isn't alone in putting his life on the line for strangers.

Morro can see it, crystal clearly, that Kai's both not just some idiot and actually gives a real damn about Lloyd.

That's acceptable then.

Kai released, the two wordlessly stalk back to the waiting room. They're greeted by the sight of Aunt Koko standing close to Nya, talking with her. She's frazzled, exhausted, obviously trying hard to keep it together. "It's not that I'm not happy to see you two," she says mostly to Nya but turning to include Kai when the separate pairs meet, "but what are you doing here? It's a school night!"

"Oh, me and Lloyd were messaging earlier when he left me on read," Kai supplies like it's nothing. "Got worried, so I called 'im. This guy picked up and explained the situation, which doesn't surprise me, harassin' him like that." He's saying it with humor and slings his arm around Morro's neck, everyone's just bros here, you see, but the flex pressing into Morro's throat betrays his concealed nerves. And fury.

Okay, Morro's wrong about the 'not some idiot' part. He pinches the arm, tossing it off him. The secret ninja's just talking about Morro finding them out, causing Lloyd extra stress. But he tenses, cursing out Kai's underestimated stupidity in his head, because Aunt Koko nods to herself like _she_ gets it when there's no way she can. She's mulling something over, and he has a strong feeling he's not gonna like what her conclusion is.

"He's a really good friend to us," Nya supplements for her brother, holding her elbow and half shrugging.

"Well, I can tell you that he thinks of you the same." She rubs Nya's shoulder and gives Kai a warm smile. "He'll be thrilled to see you."

Morro has to bite back the hurt he feels watching her almost kind of deliberately, pointedly, not look at him.

* * *

They're shown to Lloyd's room where they see him lying in a hospital bed, his right arm over his face, with the blanket pulled up to his chest. He's already heard them come in, evidenced by the freshly bandaged hand he discreetly slips under the blanket. The twins stand together at the end, Aunt Koko beside it, while Morro leans against the wall, arms crossed.

"Hey, honey," Aunt Koko coos as she touches him. She squeezes his shoulder while he rubs his eyes, smiling sleepily at her. "Look who's here to see you."

Kai shakes his foot, and Nya flashes peace signs, both grinning.

Rather than being 'thrilled,' he looks at them in panicked alarm. He searches the room, finding his cousin who gathers just by his expression that he's silently asking if their presence here means she knows.

Morro shakes his head.

Relieved, Lloyd smiles back at his friends. "Guys, hey."

"We heard what went down," Kai says as he deposits himself on the edge of the bed, holding out a fist for Lloyd to tentatively bump.

"Can I get you anything? Juice? Crackers?" Aunt Koko doesn't hesitate to ask.

Knowing how much of a mother hen she can be when given the chance, Lloyd quickly tries, "No thanks, I'm—"

"Yeah, he'll take some juice, Miss K," Kai volunteers in a flash, nudging his sister.

"But I—" Lloyd tries again, quieter.

"I'll go with you," Nya says, stepping around the bed and joining Aunt Koko.

"Oh, okay," she chirps, blinking in slight surprise, but she turns to the door. "We'll be right back. Be good." She points at Kai as she steps out.

Kai salutes their departure, then he just calmly smiles at the far wall while Morro scowls at the floor lining. They're glaring at each other out of the corner of their eyes, and Lloyd would have to be pretty out of it not to notice. He senses the tension easily enough because he glances between the two, mouth drawn in a toothy grimace, before he pulls the blanket over his head.

"Awe, don't be like that," Kai says as he tugs the makeshift shield back.

"Remember, Kai," Lloyd pleads, gripping the blanket tight. "I told you I didn't say anything, so you don't get to be mad at me."

"Relax, bro. It's not an interrogation." Kai leans in, making a pathetic attempt at whispering, "But, uh, is there a reason 'jerk and brooding' knows my secret identity, too?" and points at Morro with his eyes.

Morro thumps his foot on the wall, sighing in exasperation. "I'm right here, and no, he didn't _say_ anything."

Kai straightens, saying, "Ah, gotcha. You're a regular Sherlock Holmes who just," he gives Morro a full-body once over, eyes lingering on the cloak he forgot to leave at the apartment, "uh, really likes the DOTD."

"Excuse me?" Morro bites, fighting the urge to rip the thing off. He's not about to look like a nervous weasel in front of this moron, so he can think it's a costume all he wants.

"Alright, that's cool," Lloyd hurriedly interjects. "You guys can leave and let me sleep." He smooths the blanket over his lap, looking up at Kai through his bangs. "Doc ordered rest an' all..."

Sighing, Kai scratches the back of his head, at least appearing concerned, then gestures to Morro. "We gotta figure out what to do about 'im."

"And I'm _still _here," he sings, waving both hands.

"Oh, sorry, Mr. Holmes," Kai says as he turns to Morro, fixing him with a supremely serious stare, hands clapping together like he's about to deliver a bad prognosis. "We might have to kill ya, man."

Lloyd holds up a forbidding burned finger, saying, "No. No, that's not...we're not doing that. Kai."

Kai shrugs before breaking his fake severity, kicking his long legs and giggling to himself.

Lloyd touches his hand to his mouth in thought. His eyes then light up with what Morro knows is the smoke from his overworked 'bad idea' mental gears. "He can be a ninja!"

Yep. He sits heavily in the nearest chair, saying, "Why the hell would I want to be, Lloyd? I barely have the energy to live as it is." Kai glances away, brows raised and lips pursed, while Lloyd just stares at him with confusion and, uh, worry. That looks like worry. "Besides, I'm sure the job's got special requirements," he redirects fast.

Kai picks at his ear, saying, "Yeah, I dunno if you can just recruit him like that. That was like, all the master's game."

"I can talk to him," Lloyd says. "He knows Morro."

"Hey," Kai gasps, smacking the bed, "quit droppin' clues."

"But...he already figured it out."

Speaking over Lloyd, Morro curls his lip at Kai and grinds, "No one's 'recruiting' me for shit," digging a knuckle into his throbbing temple.

Kai flicks his earwax at the far wall. "I wasn't saying we were. Like, I believe I said the opposite."

"I'm just making things clear," Morro says as he sits up taller in the chair.

Kai's getting ready to stand, too. "Yeah, asshole, I _got _that, but if you didn't stick your nose all up in our secret ninja bisnatch—"

"Guys! Woah!" Lloyd bursts. "Not— _This_, okay? Not happening. Not here. Mom's just—"

"Just what?" Aunt Koko says as she walks into the room, toting several snacks and juice boxes in her arms.

"We're back!" Nya announces with both dramatic and too late volume. Lloyd holds his head, swatting a hand at her. "Oh! Sorryyy," she whisper-yells.

"Just the best mom in the whole world," Kai exults, hopping off the bed and swaggering over to Aunt Koko to give her a hug. A juice box hits the floor for his ridiculous endeavor.

Morro picks it up and bounces it in his hand. He's not sure what possesses him to test Lloyd at a time like this, but he tosses it to his cousin who catches it without even looking, clearly trained instinct present despite the concussion. Slightly impressed, he raises his eyebrow while Lloyd frowns, shaking his head at the box and mouthing, 'Seriously?' like he's mad at it personally instead of the one who threw it.

His aunt's far less impressed, snapping around to glare at Morro. Shit. He makes himself smaller in the chair.

She moves over to Lloyd as Nya and Kai tear into the snacks like animals, saying, "Your nurse found me and said that they can release you now. I just need to keep an eye on you. Ready to go home, sweetie?" She rubs his back as he nods and presses his head to her belly. "Okay, you two," she says to the twins, stopping their eating mid-bite, "It's _way_ past bedtime. Do you need a ride?"

"Thanks, but," Nya says, covering her mouth to try not to spit crumbs, "I don't wanna leave my bike."

"We'll be at school bright an' early," Kai promises, making no such effort.

The conversation carries on, but Morro slips out of the room to wait outside. The wind's picked up since they first got here, slapping the ends of his hair painfully into his eyes and making it feel colder out than it really is. Sniffing hard, he pulls his cloak tighter around his shoulders.

God, he _really_ wishes he had a cigarette right now.

* * *

No one talks on the ride home.

Lloyd dozes in the front passenger seat. Morro slouches low in the one behind him, arms around his chest and knees braced on Lloyd's seatback, rarely looking away from the passing street. Aunt Koko glances in the rearview at least fifty times but keeps whatever she wants to say to herself until they reach the apartment.

She parks the car, shutting it off. The distracting noise it takes with it leaves the space silent, heavy and suffocating.

"We're home, honey," she says quietly as she pets Lloyd's hair, waking him. Morro feels another unpleasant pang seeing real motherly tenderness like that. She just won't give it a rest tonight. He almost thinks she's doing it on purpose at this point, just to stick it to him. That's not all he thinks about it. He knows what else he's feeling even if he refuses to articulate it. He's fought that feeling his whole life because, really, it's a path to weakness, something that makes him think there's _better_ out there, somewhere. And that just means it's one more thing he doesn't have.

"Go on inside," she says to her son, leaning back in her seat. Her eyes set on the bandage wrapped around his head, covering the stitches.

Lloyd unbuckles and grabs the door handle, but then he notices neither she nor Morro are getting out. "Mom," he squeaks, "It was an accident. Please—"

"No, go inside, Lloyd."

"But—"

She shoots him a hard look. He throws a helpless one to Morro before obeying, the latter slowly blinking at the sound of the door shutting, resigned.

Sighing, she twists so she can see him. "I know things have been hard for you with my sister and brother-in-law," she starts.

No, she doesn't know. Morro hasn't told anyone just how bad things actually are. The screaming. The drinking. The put-downs and punishments. Constant, unprovoked. No, everyone thinks he simply 'doesn't get along with' his parents. _He_ knows, however, that his mother's badmouthed him to her on more than one occasion, about the fights he'd start at school 'for attention,' or the bad crowd he supposedly hung out with. She always scoffed at what she'd been told, but now she probably has reason to suspect it's all true.

Well, it's not. Morro doesn't have friends. He only went out _once_ with the 'Ghost Freaks' as the idiots at school called them. And those fights were always with Lloyd's bullies or people he caught saying disgusting shit about his aunt.

He can't tell her any of that without the risk of exposing Lloyd's secret. Unlike _some_, Morro knows how to lie.

It hurts, but he keeps his mouth shut and doesn't look at her.

"But you can't take it out on Lloyd," she continues. "I know he's just trying to stick up for you. He cares about you like that." She tilts her head, wanting to catch his eye so she can wordlessly ask if he understands, but he does _understand_ more than she can about all the care going around right now, and he _won't_ look at her. She sighs, "I do, too, but I'm sorry. I can't have you around my house if you're not going to treat your cousin with respect." She's being deadly stern, but her voice breaks a little from that.

He says nothing.

"You can still stay here tonight, but do you have somewhere you can go tomorrow?" she finishes.

His throat acts like there's needles in it when he swallows. He has to remember why he's doing this. And besides that, if she wants to assume the worst about him, too, then _fine_. He accidentally flicks his eyes to hers before blinking away. "Yeah."

* * *

They walk in on Lloyd stacking books by the overturned shelf instead of resting, so they both have to shout at him to go to bed. It's the last words Morro has with his family that night. He rights the shelf, and Koko helps him put the stuff back on it. She doesn't even notice the breakables he'd moved aren't where they've always been. No wonder she hasn't figured out her son's little secret.

She gathers up the pieces of his ceramic dragon and carries them off to her room, probably to throw away.

He leaves before either of them wake up the next morning.

He's got his cloak, few other clothes, a dead phone, and books for a school he doesn't want to see anymore. Three cigarettes and a half-inch of lighter fluid. That's it. No charger. No music. No car. Most of his money went to the cab fare. Family or friends? That's established. A box of trash someone left in his path takes the wrath of his foot smashing against it, careening into an alley.

He gets to live on the streets now because of _all _the people in this god _damn_ city, it had to be _Lloyd _who's the Green Ninja. He could've been proud of that fact, but instead, all he can feel about it is hatred.

* * *

"Wind _is_ taken," Uncle Wu says out of the blue seven months after Lloyd brings his family back together. He's standing close to the ship's railing and leans into the breeze that tosses his beard and robes about.

Lloyd stops tinkering with his arm and looks at his master, confused.

"Remember, when you did not understand your own elemental power, you said, 'wind isn't taken.' It is." He holds his arms out, continuing, "Can't you feel it, nephew? It _calls_ to be heard."

Lloyd closes the plating covering the laser he insisted on having installed with it, clenching his titanium fingers into a fist. He remembers giggling, _"You did that. Put my arm back on, like a real dad," _when the anesthesia still had a grip on him. He's never gonna forget the look on Dad's face at that either. But back to the present moment, he says, "Master, I don't know what that means."

Uncle Wu twirls his staff as if to say, 'Eh, you'll figure it out.'

And for some not-so-inexplicable-anymore reason, Lloyd notices that the wind, something he'd never had any real thoughts about before, feels sad.


	3. Skullclub's Got Ghost Stories

Living on the streets isn't so bad, Morro reasons to himself. He just has to keep his head down, not waste the money he scrounges up, steer clear of other homeless hangouts, and detach from his _feelings_ about it. Can almost be a quiet life, then.

What's _not_ quiet is having to run from the behemoth lion that's destroyed his 'house' with its massive, ethereal paw. The thing appears as though it came down from the starry night sky, and it roars like nothing on this lowly planet. The sound knocks on every nerve as he dodges debris and other fleeing people as if it's telling each one personally, _"Oh, yes, sorry to inconvenience you, but please get away if you want to keep your pathetic existence."_

It occurs to him with a wry kind of irony that it's the most alive he's felt all year.

For two days after the beast slapped the ninja right out of the air, it terrorizes the city. The idiot mayor takes that long to get evacuation plans implemented when Lloyd's little team makes its 'glorious,' _super-powered_ return, or so Morro hears. He's several miles away from the action when the battle comes to a resounding conclusion.

And soon, people are whispering, talking about things that set his blood on fire.

"Can you believe it? Garmadon's _own son_ was the Green Ninja this whole time!" the busybodies say.

How did they...?

_"The Green Ninja revealed his identity in front of countless onlookers when he pacified the monster, affectionately dubbed 'Meowthra.' I don't know about you, Gayle, but I did_ not_ expect him to be that kid,"_ someone's loud car radio reports.

Ah. So that's how it gets to be.

The destruction to the city caused the no-go zones he catalogued to shift, but like everything else, he has to find that out the hard way.

Around midnight, he's scouring along the canal on the outskirts of town for a warm place to sleep when a group of five dudes, a couple of them carrying store appliances and beer they obviously looted, strut together on the same path, coming towards him. He's about to slide down the incline to avoid them, but they continue on.

He huffs in relief, too soon.

"Look at this, boys," a hick voice chuckles.

Hurrying his pace just makes them move faster, surrounding him.

Clutching the strap of his backpack, Morro says, "I'm not looking for any trouble, alright?"

"Neither are we," the apparent leader responds. Of course his smirk says otherwise. He moves in closer, the others copying him. "Why don't you just give us the bag and any money you've got on ya'?"

Morro drops his head, glaring at the ground and cursing his stupid fate. He lets the backpack slip a little loose over his shoulder.

Then, as the guys laugh in anticipation of getting what they want, he dashes through them, shoving at the two in his way, but one grabs him by the arm. "Not so fast," he says, twisting it, while his buddies yank on the bag.

"Get off me!" Morro shouts while keeping his other arm bent tight. The pulling falters long enough for him to punch the one holding him in the face. Freed, he runs, hoping they give up chasing him.

Something hits him hard in the head, spraying liquid all down the back of his neck, and flattens him on his knees in the frostbitten grass. A full beer can.

"Hey, don't waste my shit!" the leader yells.

The culprit carrying the carton defends himself, saying, "He was gettin' away. Only thing I could think of."

Grabbing his head, Morro turns over to sit, stars obscuring his vision. He scrambles backwards as the guy with a bloody nose stalks across the grass towards him.

The thug rages, "Gonna hit me, huh? You little punk. Really gonna hit _me_, are ya'?" and delivers a sharp kick into Morro's side. He's winding up another when a woman shrieks, and then an invisible _something _throws him off his feet.

"The hell?" the leader barks.

Morro rubs at his eyes before he opens them to the sight of a hand outstretched for him.

It's Ghoultar, the meathead who plays muscle for the Ghost Freaks, even thicker than the last time they crossed paths almost a year ago. "Need help, friend?" he says with a dumb, warm smile.

Bansha's behind him, standing between them and the thugs. They advance on her, but she lets out a scream so loud, Morro swears he can see the sound waves. All five of them go flying, tumbling over each other and crashing against the nearest wall.

"What the hell— You just—" Morro sputters, slapping Ghoultar's hand out of his face. The guy pouts, but he doesn't care. The skinny girl no taller than Lloyd just sent five grown men through the air with her _voice_.

Feeling the same shock, the thugs take off one after another, tails between their legs. Bansha cackles at them as they go.

Just the leader stands up and stays, not shaken by the inhuman power. "Don't think I won't kick your ass, you stupid—"

"Ghoul'," Bansha orders with a finger snap. "Mess him up, would'ya."

Stepping past her, the big goon outright giggles before he punches his fists together. Metal — straight up silver and copper _metal_ — covers his arms, making them almost double in size. _That_ scares the thug off.

Morro can't find the words to demand _what the hell's going on_. His breath won’t catch.

"Aww, pal, don't be scared of us," a new voice lilts right by his ear. Wrayth. "We came to save you," he says, pulling down the hood of his blue jacket.

Dazed as he is, Morro knows for a fact that he didn't hear anyone creep up beside him. He jumps to his feet, disguising his fearful yelp as a cry of anger. "I was handling it!"

Bansha busts out laughing at him, saying, "Yeah, sure you were."

"No, no, let the man think he was fine," Wrayth tells her. "He'll just let it happen again when we're not happening to pass by."

She snorts in response but doesn't say anything more.

"Not hurt, are you?" Ghoultar asks, moving close to Morro. His arms still reflect the streetlamps, and when he notices the other eyeing them with trepidation, he grins, the metal melting away into his skin.

"What, you don't watch the news?" Wrayth intones. "Oh, 'course not. You're homeless," he adds with a rude laugh.

"I don't live under a rock," Morro snarls. He just...thought those reports were exaggerated.

Wrayth smirks. "I know. That's what I said."

Morro's one more snarky comment away from strangling him, two super-powered friends by his side or not. "You better spit out what you're really doing here right now, or I'll—"

"Sorry, sorry, what I mean is lucky people get powers, and it's not just the ninja. The master says you're a _very lucky_ man," Wrayth explains, completely straight-faced. The other two smile and nod, supporting his absurdity.

Morro laughs at that, a short one of disbelief. "God, you people are still insane."

"Eh, not the point," Wrayth dismisses, continuing, "I'll cut to the chase," as if he hasn't been wasting everyone's time. "We're actually here to offer to train you."

A long moment passes.

"What?" Morro manages, sounding dumb even to his own ears.

"Y'know, to control that latent power you've got."

"And live with us, he means," Bansha groans, meandering away from the group.

"It's nice," Ghoultar says as he casts a judging glance around the wide outdoors. "A good place to learn to protect yourself."

They're making fun of him.

"Piss off," Morro snaps. He put a stop to hanging out with these freaks because they kept asking him to talk to their 'master.' A man who they claimed is a real ghost. A. Ghost. And now they're bringing him this bullshit. He's not about to humor them again, even if that display of power earlier gives them a little more credence.

"Told you he'd say that," Bansha mutters, rolling her eyes.

Wrayth gestures for her to shut up before he pockets his hands, leaning heavy on one leg. "Come on, you've been out here for what? A few weeks now? I'd be tired of it by now."

Shouldering his backpack, Morro pivots and walks off, but the others follow him, crowding around him like gnats, buzzing with reminders of all the danger and uncertainty he'll be subjected to if he continues as he is. "Just leave me alone," he shouts after failing to shake them. Whatever it is they're doing, whether it's an insult or a pity handout, he's not taking it.

He thinks they're not gonna back off, but then Wrayth lets him go, blocking the other two with his arms and saying, "Alright, dude, it's your call."

"Yeah, and you're welcome!" Bansha yells after him.

Morro holds his thumb up in the air by way of sarcastic gratitude, not looking back.

Well, that was weird. It happened so fast, he realizes now he didn't really think. What the hell was their deal?

Whatever, freaks acting like freaks isn't his problem.

He prods the back of his head, the spot where a bump's forming. Damn does it hurt, and there's gross moisture in his hair. Beer and grime. God, he needs a shower. He's heard that a gym membership's helpful for situations like this since it'd give him access to running water, but that costs money.

Nobody so far wants to hire someone who doesn't even have a high school degree, and they all ask for a phone number to call him into interviews with whenever they get around to feeling like it. He already sold his phone to some dude on the street when he almost passed out from hunger.

Speaking of, the pang in his stomach's too harsh to ignore at the moment, not after the stupid excitement he got tonight.

Inside the cheapest ramen joint in the city, he sits down with his hot bowl slowly, taking pressure off his side, in the furthest corner where he can still see the door. A TV's on across the room, showing the news, as it does. With its volume down, he can't hear what's being reported, but it must be something about Garmadon because they're showing his dastardly mug. Then the picture changes.

A cheerful, little family of three. He tsks under his breath.

It looks like Lloyd's landed himself in the hospital again and feeling it, but he's happy, grinning wide for his selfie cam with Koko and Garmadon close to him on either side of the frame. The news must've snatched it off his social media. Creeps.

Morro wants to be glad for him, but after everything— No. No, he _doesn't_. He's furious, and he slams his chopsticks down, lacing his fingers together and staring out the window. Pressing his mouth to his hands, he closes his eyes in thought.

Maybe he— He's been away for a lot longer than he has before. Maybe— What if...it's possible something's changed.

Well, probably not, but it wouldn't hurt to just go knock on the door. There's nothing they can do to him across the threshold anyway.

He chokes down the rest of his noodles that do nothing to settle the roiling nervousness in his stomach and straps his backpack on over both shoulders. Nothing can get in the way of his resolve if he's really gonna do this.

That drive to keep up a determined pace weakens the closer he gets to his old street. It stops two blocks away. He stands on the corner, his body trying to pull him back the other way without him telling it to.

With a quick shake of his head, he renews his momentum. He's not sleeping out here one more night without knowing for sure.

By the last block, he's running. There's smoke rising into the starless sky, illuminated by orange light, and filling the air with the suffocating scent of burning and dread.

What kind of cosmic joke is this?

Firefighters spray the house down to an audience of all the neighbors covering their mouths and gasping, chattering among each other. The old widow from next door points to two body bags as they're wheeled away on gurneys, saying something to the younger woman beside her.

They don't see him, he's careful to ensure. He backs deeper into the shadows and bumps into someone who clamps their hand around his arm.

"Hey, it's alright. It's gonna be alright, man," Wrayth's soft voice says, his fingers holding on too tight. Maybe it's supposed to be for reassurance.

Then there's Bansha next to him on the other side. "Oh, baby," she sighs, her voice dripping with pity, and wraps her arms around his neck, her head coming to a rest on his shoulder.

He's being pulled away, Ghoultar stepping in front of him, arms held open. The guy's just a black silhouette, haloed in fire and smoke and flashing lights. And doors closing on two bodies, torn away to somewhere out of reach.

* * *

Lloyd rolls over in bed, snaking his arm around his ribs.

Glad that he took enough painkillers with his huge mug of green tea an hour ago, he barely feels the ache in his shoulder. It also helps that it turned out his healing factor came from the green element itself, because it got _way_ more effective after he became aware of it. Like some over-eager maid.

Oh, that's a funny mental image. Makes him all giggly.

Hang on, though. Wouldn't it be his doppelganger in the dress? That's like one degree away from being in the dress himself. He stops laughing with a little gasp at that, but he's thankful at least. He'd be stuck in the hospital right now without it. Or worse, probably.

Still, the lack of familiar weight over his side fills him with disconcerting anxiety.

His whole...well, what's left of his body is weightless, floating numb under his blanket, and he's fine with that. Really. If he can't connect with the world, then he won't have to think. About it. He didn't have to before when...when it was just _go, go, go_, get through this nightmare, find those weapons. There they are. They've always been here, right inside. Then it was _save Dad_, save the city. Get him back. Make up for every stupid thing that—

_Nothing_ else mattered.

Now he's gotta focus on not focusing. Keep things clicked out of place _just so, _just enough. It's a hard thing to maintain, he — and the physician in charge of his prescription — discovered pretty fast. His element _likes_ to keep him connected to the world and flushes everything _it_ doesn’t like out his system...like twice as fast as normal people. Super annoying, and it's costing Mom extra because people like green pieces of paper more than the _Green_ freakin' Ninja...apparently, but that's her fault for not accepting Dad's offer to pay for it—

Wait, why's he even awake right now?

He heard something. A muffled voice, and it's speaking again. Right. Right, that's...Mom.

Humming a groan, he buries his nose in the pillow, wanting to let blissful sleep take him away for a few more hours. He can't, though. She sounds upset.

Carefully, he flops onto his back and reaches to push the curtain aside the way he always does. It's so _weird_. He's positive he can feel the softness and weighted resistance on his fingertips. He can. He can, he feels the mattress pressing on his elbow and the fan tickling the fine hairs on his forearm and the t-shirt sleeve trying to cut off circulation to the limb in a taut, painful circle at the end of his shoulder. It's heavier than the rest of his body, and he's thinking about it.

"Sh—" he almost swears, clenching his jaw.

A deep intake of breath, then he's reaching over to move the curtain with the _other _arm, stretches and arches his neck because he's got no way to support himself on that side and— _Screw it_. He glides his legs off the bed and just...sits up. Stupid.

The curtain slipping off his head as he finally stands, he pads to the closed door framed in light. The full force of it spears his vision, making him dizzier than he already is, but he leans on the wall after releasing the doorknob, steady enough. None of it in focus, he sees too much of the room, like looking through a fisheye lens.

"Mom?" he mumbles to the only thing in his line of sight that's not fuzzed out. Fun fact: numb lips don't feel right.

She's sitting at the table and glances up at him, her phone to her ear. "Oh, honey, did I wake you? I'm sorry," she says, teary and kind of distracted. To whoever's on the other line, she continues, "I have to go. Thank you." She sets the phone down, squeezing it in her white-knuckled fist. Though she tries to fight it, whatever the person told her makes her break down in tears.

What...?

Shocked, he steps over to her, wobbly.

Not really looking, she lifts her hand intending to touch his arm in comfort, but it's the wrong side, and that just makes her cry harder.

The impression of _green_ flashing through his brain clears the dizziness, dragging the world into narrow focus. "Mom, what's wrong?" he presses, his own eyes threatening to well up now that he can feel the cold tile under his feet.

"I'm so sorry, Lloyd. I-it's your aunt and uncle. There- There was a fire. They're—" She chokes off, sobbing as she pulls him into a gentle hug.

_Dead_.

He stares down the walkway, trying to process that. He didn’t really know them, just— "H-hold on," he starts, scared to ask it. "What about Morro?"

She pushes him back to look him in the eye, shaking her head and rubbing his arm. "Oh. No, _no_, honey, he's fine. H-he never went home."

Never went...? "What? Why not? Where is he?" he bursts, too fast for her to keep up.

"I— I don't know," is all she can say. Her brows pinch as she wipes her eyes with her sweater sleeve. "You haven't heard from him?"

Disbelief and horror crawling up his spine, he shakes his head once.

Similarly, her expression shadows with slow understanding, like things are adding up.

It strikes him distinctly, the memory of her sending him inside to talk to Morro in private. She was so angry then, so sure that what happened was his fault, while he was trying to keep the situation under control, but Lloyd couldn't do anything to help him as he lost it.

He's pretty sure he knows what the conversation was about when he takes a step away, questioning, "Why did he leave, Mom?"

She follows him, twisting around to lean forward in her seat, but she can't meet his eyes. "I...asked him to."

"Why would you do that?"

"He told me he had somewhere he could go," she asserts, staring up. There's a hint of pleading in the way she says it, the way her shiny eyes widen.

His hand latching in his hair, he looks towards the corner of the dining room. He can almost see Morro sitting there, smirking because he played a good prank and totally _wasn't_ just kicked out of his own home for god knows what.

In front of the TV, the two of them would be playing video games together after the beatings they'd take at school. He'd be passed out on the couch at night, trying to hide the bruises Lloyd didn't see him get. And he'd linger at the front door when their 'playdates' were over, secretly casting Mom an anxious stare.

There's so many memories like that. He had it just as bad, and he tried to make one, but he never found a support system like Lloyd did.

He's really gonna start crying with her as he says, "No, I know him, okay. If he wasn't at his house, he'd be here. We're all he's got."

She's shaking her head in desperation when he looks back at her. "T-then why would...No, it's that secret you were keeping from me, isn't it?" she says with a gasp, more tears spilling. "Lloyd, I thought he hurt you, and you _let _me believe it." Elbow on the table, she sinks onto her hand as she realizes what she's done. What they both have. "Oh my god, he was protecting _you_...oh god," she stammers, turning her face to her palm.

"I tried to tell you," he thinks about saying, but it's not her fault. Nothing to do with her at all. It's on him for being so _stupid_.

Ignoring the pounding spasm in his shoulder, he rushes to his room to grab his phone and punch Morro's contact. The voice on the other line tells him what he already expects.

_"We're sorry, but the number you have dialed has been disconnected..."_

* * *

There's water dripping off the gutter. Just drip, drip...drip. It doesn't stop. The delicate sound it makes alternates between taking five seconds and none. The wind, chilling Morro's wet hair, blows it against the screen before it even has a chance at reaching the ground, splashes of dark on the tiny wires, glistening clarity between them. A dead leaf collides against the spot and sticks there for a moment before the wind rips it away. Another follows, a thin one that's still green somehow. Its serrated edge seems stuck between the wires, the top point flapping against the prison bars.

Oh, it's raining.

Yeah, _now_ it's raining.

The sliding glass door opens, then someone sits down in the second chair of two on the porch.

_Go away._

Ignorant of his thoughts, a red foil package puts itself right between his eyes and the leaf, making him crane his neck to bring it into focus. A two-pack of flavored cigarillos. Cherry. Disgusting.

He glances to the hand holding them, trailing to the face expectantly looking at him.

"You smoke, right?" Wrayth asks with a grin that implies he already knows the answer.

Morro snorts, snagging the one pushed out for him. He accepts the lighter handed to him next and hopes that's all the presence Wrayth's gonna grace him with, but the guy leans back, lighting up the other cigar.

God, whatever. He'll learn what good company Morro is real quick.

He's gonna gag on the wrapper's sweet, awful taste, but he drags the smoke into his lungs as deep as there's room for it without coughing. He forces himself to be content with the silence, but there's a black cellphone in his face next.

"The hell—" he starts before his voice is ready. Clearing his throat, he tries again, "The hell is this?"

"Heard it was your birthday, so." Wrayth nudges it towards him.

Taking the phone, he says, "It's not...um," trailing off from surprise. He stares at it as he supports its weight with his wrist on his knee.

"Day after you got the boot, yeah?"

He scratches at his forehead with the other hand holding the cigar, closing his eyes as he rolls them. "Yep."

"A DOTD baby. That's pretty cool."

Flicking his narrow eyes back to Wrayth, he huffs, demanding, "Yeah, and here's the part where you tell me how you know."

Wrayth laughs, shrugging. "Don't take this the wrong way, but we've been 'spying' on you." At Morro's 'what the shit, dude,' expression, he hurriedly continues, "Just to gauge you. To see if you've got what it takes to work with us."

Sarcastic, he responds, "Now, see, I'm confused on how you think I'm supposed to take that," gesturing with both hands, pushing his profound disbelief across the tension between them.

"Relax, relax. I'm kidding here. No spying took place," Wrayth placates, putting his own up. Obviously, he's a liar. The phone's evidence enough for that. He crosses his arms, adding almost quietly around the cigar in his mouth, "I got a peek at the date when I was scrubbing your school record."

If Morro were less experienced with smoke inhalation, he'd choke mid-drag. Instead, he exhales the cloud out his nose, side-eyeing Wrayth who watches the rain, his smile a little smug.

Giving it a moment as he considers, Morro drawls, "What, is that your superpower? Deleting things?"

"Nah. I'm just good at getting into places. Like for that phone, there. The old lady who owned it doesn't even know it's gone. Hadn't used it in years anyway. Just sitting in the bottom of a drawer, wasting away. In case you were worried. Whole new number on it, too. Nobody from your old life can bother you again."

God damn, he doesn't know how to shut up.

Contemplating the chances he has of putting his cigar out in the dude's eye, Morro states more than asks, "So, I assume every other record of my existence is gone?"

"Yep! Like you never existed at all."

If only. He takes in another long drag.

"How's it feel to be a ghost?" Wrayth carries on, glancing at him with that ever-present smirk, leaning over a little and back.

"Normal," he says before cringing at how obnoxious that sounded.

"Ouch," Wrayth agrees.

Morro grimaces, biting his lip. Wrayth can't realize the floodgates he opened shoving a birthday present in his face, besides...everything else that's happened tonight.

Maybe it's the cigar's potency loosening him up, or the fact that he's been completely alone for weeks, but he breaks the silence, ranting, "I didn't even think about what day it was gonna be. I mean, I did. It's what my— my dad and I fought about."

_Why were you even born? But you're about to be eighteen, so I guess that's good enough,_ his memory abridges for him. He screws his eyes shut to it, bringing the cigar to his lips, but he puts it down on the armrest. Koko would really, really hate to know that he smokes.

He still cares? Why? He yanks it back up, pulling its poison down into his chest. "And I didn't care. I really didn't," he continues, the smokey words drawing out with the pain he's sick to death of feeling. "But my aunt, y'know, she could've remembered. That've been alright."

Wrayth doesn't seem to mind the rant, and his smile almost looks soft for the second Morro can stand to look at him. "I hear ya'. Family sucks like that. That's what you've got us for now. We'll be your family."

He knocks off the built-up ash on his cigar then says, "That's gang shit."

"I s'pose it is."

Well, what's he got to lose now anyway? His god damn personal space for one. "Just leave me alone."

"Fair, fair," Wrayth relents, standing. He risks his hand putting it on Morro's shoulder as he says, "Look, there's a spare room for you, down the hall, to the right."

"I'm gonna stay out here," he responds, struggling to keep his voice calm.

"Sure. Whatever you need, man."

After setting a pillow and blanket out for him, Wrayth finally leaves him in peace.

It's a few silent minutes more as he finishes the cigar, looking through the new phone. Each app, each setting change, each attempt at remembering phone numbers he never actually memorized is like a game, weighing the pros and cons for him. To stay or to leave. Once spent, he stamps it out and bundles himself up on the floor.

He's clean, warm, and safe in a third-story apartment balcony, and he doesn't know what he's supposed to feel. Maybe he'll leave in the morning.

The green leaf breaks free, ferried off to the place it's going to die.

* * *

He wakes up the next morning because someone's jabbing their skinny damn finger into his cheek. Eyes snapping open, he grips the attached wrist with a solid slap and twists it.

"Hey, jeez," Bansha hisses, hovering over him. "Not my fault your dumbass sleeps like the dead!" She leaps to her feet, yanking her arm away. "Breakfast's ready," she spits as she goes inside.

He gives a long sigh in aggravation, rubbing his face with both hands, but the wafts of frying bacon make getting up at least feel worth the effort.

Ghoultar, all smiles and bushy-tailed at whatever ungodly hour it is, shoves a plate of pancakes at him before he's even shut the glass door. Staring down at it, he knows the food's for him, hence the whole 'it was literally just given to him' thing, but...

The apartment has an open kitchen, separated from the living room by a short wall, which is where Wrayth stands in front of the stove. He waves his spatula in simple greeting, but Morro takes it as a silent grant of permission.

"Thanks," he mutters, Ghoultar nodding once in response and leaving him to it.

He has to turn away from the others on the first bite. The syrup's _way_ too sweet, the pancakes are powdery as all hell, and Wrayth doesn't know the first thing about cooking bacon, but it's a _meal._

Great_, _he's emotional over food. Suck it up before one of them notices.

A distraction just in time, Bansha announces, "Say hi, Brian."

"That's not my name, _Kathleen_," an unfamiliar voice answers with lazy disdain. The stranger's shuffling out of the hallway into the room, still wearing pajamas, and he's got the dog tired eyes of an old man trapped in a teenager's body. He drops down beside Bansha on the couch and affords Morro a weak, "Hello," before he dumps his head on her shoulder, clearly a fan of sleep.

"Yeah, yeah. Morro, this is _Soul Archer_," she drones with all the judgement she has for the call sign. Dumb to see that they're still running that gimmick on their new recruits.

"He hasn't found his element yet, and yet he still insisted on picking a name," Wrayth says with a laugh, flipping a pancake.

Ah, a purposeful gimmick. Wait, "You've always had powers?"

Wrayth nods. "Since before I can remember."

He's not actually convinced Wrayth _has_ an element since the guy hasn't volunteered what it is. Whatever, he'll figure it out eventually. He looks to Bansha, raising his eyebrows.

She makes a face, tilting her head side to side thoughtfully. "Element of sound. My parents just_ loved_ me."

Fire, earth, ice, metal...sound? "That's not an element."

"It's a piece of this world, isn't it? What's your definition of the word?"

Well. "Yeah, okay. Then explain what 'Ghoultar' has to do with metal." They probably think he's trying to peg them on stupidity, but he really is just curious.

"Tell him what it means, Paulie," Bansha commands, rolling her eyes.

Ghoultar holds his arms out straight, palms up. Dark metal crawls in a level line from his fingertips on up to his elbows, shiny and strong. He grins, saying, "Looks like a road, right?"

Morro eyes it, brows twitching in confusion as he tries to come up with an answer. "Um," is the best he's got.

"It reminds him of a road getting tarred," Bansha supplies. "Go with it."

"That doesn't—"

"Just shut _up_, Morro," she moans, making Wrayth snicker.

He's about to retort when Soul Archer speaks up, mumbling, "I'll get my element, then all of you will be fucking sorry," not even looking at anyone.

Morro's eyes widen at the sudden expression, unprompted by anything he's aware of. He gets another show of the guy's latent anger when Wrayth drives them all to a closed karate studio a half hour later.

The place apparently belongs to Soul Archer's parents who let him use it on the weekends and after hours. A 'don't ask, don't tell' arrangement, and now the base of operations for Morro's _official_ fight training.

"There's some gis in a bin in there," Wrayth says, pointing to one of three dressing rooms in the back. "Go on and get changed."

He finds one in his size. It smells like dust but at least not like sweat, so he can't complain.

Catching sight of himself in the mirror, he's hit by a strange feeling, a curiosity. What if the stark white material had color? Like the ninja. With black to carry the title and metal decorations for show and a bright trim of designation. If it had something like that, then the gi would mean something. It'd represent belongi—

Crushing the thought before the emotions attached to it burrow too deep, he strides out of the room.

The barely conscious persona Soul Archer had earlier vanished sometime between closing the door and opening it. His dark eyes bore into Morro, strong jaw setting and defined arms crossing over his gi-clad chest. His feet planted in a comfortably wide posture, he nods to the spot he wants Morro to stand. "Show me your stance," he orders.

"My what?" Morro balks, then he snorts. "Oh, gotcha. You're supposed to be my 'sensei,' huh? Gonna teach me 'the ways,' are ya'," he says, a bit dramatic, while he saunters over to complete the triangle. Facing Ghoultar who's dressed the same, he sets his hand on his hip.

Wrayth and Bansha sit together across the barrier, watching the three closely.

"Yes. I am," Soul Archer confirms, his tone much more pointed than it was at the apartment. "Now show me what you already know."

Mkay, fine. That's easy enough.

But as Ghoultar hunches his shoulders, sliding his foot back and bending the other knee, his fists coming together in front of his face, Morro feels a little...concerned.

"He's not gonna use his powers, right?" he asks their wise, old teacher.

Soul Archer deliberates for a moment, pressing his lips into a thin line. He gives Ghoultar a tiny head tilt rather than a nod, saying, "He won't."

Morro takes in a mind clearing breath and circles his opponent, sizing him up.

Ghoultar keeps his stance without taking his eyes off the other, shifting around to keep his front well guarded.

There's nowhere Morro can come at him from that angle, and his strength even without his element is probably overpowering. Of course, his bulk's gonna make him slower, never mind his limited brain capacity, so distracting him with quick movements then landing a blow to the back of his head should up Morro's chances.

He hops forward, feinting a kick to Ghoultar's ankle, and draws back fast, dodging the swing Ghoultar throws at his head. His opponent giggles, his fist rejoining the other.

Morro ignores him, focusing on the placements of his jabs, most not connecting. Ghoultar's visually following each one and keeping his fists up, only attempting one more punch when he gets too close. By the eleventh misdirection, Ghoultar seems to lose track of where he's gonna be next.

It's time. He jumps to the side, sliding around his lumbering opponent, and aims his elbow for the soft part of Ghoultar's head.

He's got maybe half a second to see the silver flowing up and over his target before the guy spins, his lead fist flying.

Too fast.

_Too fast!_

How's he so—?_  
_

Solid metal collides with Morro's mouth, stars bursting and _pain _and, yep, that's the floor, and is he...

* * *

Someone's got a grip on his shoulder, shaking him.

"Damn...aulie, were y...tryna kill him?"

"No, I thought...dodge! He was—"

"Shut it, both of you. He's coming around."

Morro groans in response to the voices crowding above him, cracking his eyes open into a glare at Soul Archer, the one touching him. Tasting the blood leaking from his teeth and throbbing lip, he spits it out then grinds, "You said...no powers."

Soul Archer holds his finger up, eyebrow and head cocked. "Rule number one: there won't _be_ any rules in a real fight." He jabs it on Morro's chest. "Your enemies are going to come at you with everything they have. Even first graders understand this." With Bansha's help on the other side, he yanks Morro off the mat by the arm, the two releasing him to steady himself on his own.

The metal idiot's mumbling apologies as Soul Archer continues the lesson, stepping between them. "You don't let an opponent like Ghoultar hit you. It just takes the one, as you've learned." He moves aside, hands stretched to prompt them to ready their stances again.

Ghoultar squares up, a worried, little frown on his face, but Morro swipes at the blood still on his lip with his thumb, glowering. He's keenly familiar with regret, but this might be the first time that he's wanted to kill someone else over it.

Unfazed by his disobedience for the moment, Soul Archer says, "You prepare for every possibility, even the ones that don't seem realistic. That means always having a counter plan ready."

"And how am I supposed to do that?" Morro snaps, his mind sputtering on the impossible task.

"By being smart and _listening to your sensei_."

Morro quietly growls, bringing his fists up and bending his knees as he rolls his eyes.

Satisfied, Soul Archer takes another step back and claps once. "Now, again!"

* * *

This isn't exactly how Kai wanted to spend his weekend, but when Lloyd called him, begging for help finding his missing cousin, well, he'd be an asshole to say no. The others jumped on the cause with him, and now they're all paired off along with Master Wu and Koko, scouring the city. Hoping it'd make people cooperate better, the ninja put on their suits, sans the masks, but it hasn't made a difference so far.

He keeps thinking about that night at the hospital. It's kinda surreal. How can someone just disappear off the face of the earth? There's no records on the dude, no social media or phone connections, no leads of any kind. No one's even seen him.

They've got nothing to trace.

He can't say that to Lloyd, though, not when the kid's been working so hard. Running himself ragged, honestly. He needs to be in bed, recovering, but Kai doesn't have the right to tell him anything.

The truth is, he feels responsible, too. He could have said something to Koko, taken the blame instead somehow. And as he watches the empty dangling of Lloyd's new gi sleeve, the stares it's getting, he thinks there's a lot of things he should've done.

"Excuse me, sorry, have you seen this guy? The red streak would be yellow now," Lloyd says to like the hundredth person, pointing to a picture of Morro that shows him a couple years younger. The only recent one they have of him. It's downright sad.

The hundredth shakes his head and hobbles away, but the hundred-and-one...th? The next one saunters over to the two. The greasy old dude probably hasn't bathed in a year and spits through his missing teeth, saying, "Yeah, greenie, I seen him."

Lloyd's eyes grow enormous. "For real? When?"

"Ahh, yeah, he scampers around 'ere sometimes, but he keeps his distance from us. Skittish, I guess. Ain't seen him since you heroes got that cat to stop rampagin', though."

"So you don't know where he goes?" Lloyd asks, his hope sinking.

"Nah. Like I said. Skittish."

"Well, if you see him again, can you tell him we're looking for him?"

"Services ain't free, _hero_," the man responds with a sneer, spreading his arms to his situation.

Lloyd glances between the helpful informant and Morro's picture before he stows it in his shirt, going for his pocket next like the innocent, gullible kid he is.

"Dude, he's not gonna do it," Kai says, pulling on Lloyd's arm.

Lloyd still manages to pass the guy a bill, mumbling, "Thanks anyway." Once they're out by the street, he's hissing real quiet and reaching around his chest to grip his shoulder.

Already scanning for a place to sit, Kai asks, "Need a break?"

"Yeah," he rasps, kneading the muscle near his neck.

Kai leads him to a bench but opts to stand in the way of anyone who'd try to go all fan crazy on him. It's weird how things could change so much but still be the same. "Did ya' bring your meds?"

"No. It's fine," he says as he slouches so far down on it, he might end up on the sidewalk. "Just need five, okay?"

Fifteen then.

Kai fruitlessly questions passersby while Lloyd rests, heading back over to him when he sits up, leaning over his knees. "I just don't get it. He was _here_. Why can't we find him?" he mumbles.

A wordless few moments pass because Kai can't drum up anything on topic to tell him. Nothing hopeful at least. Crossing his arms, he says, "An instinct for self-destructive heroics must run in your mom's side of the family."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Kai would like to know that too actually, because Lloyd definitely didn't get it from his father, and now that Morro's gone and pulled a similar stunt, the odds are Koko's family passed down some kind of curse. The _'no good deed...'_ sort of curse. "Well, it's like with your parents. She knew who your dad was."

Lloyd puts his hand on his thigh, angling so he can warn Kai with his scowl.

Yeah, yeah, he'll be careful with his next words. "I just mean they fell in love while they were in the middle of a war _against_ each other, right? But she must've seen somethin' she wanted to save, even though it made things harder on her. 'Specially when she couldn't change 'im. Get what I'm saying?" He let his thoughts run ahead of him there and realizes he said too much when he notices Lloyd metaphorically kicking himself.

"That was my fault, too," he's muttering at his wrist, rubbing his temple.

Ah crap. "What, because you were born? Dude, c'mon, you don't believe that."

"Yeah, I guess it's kinda ridiculous," Lloyd sighs.

"Hey, it's not all bad. I wouldn't have my little bro without it. Thank you, '_complex,_'" he jokes, ruffling Lloyd's hair.

"Dude, gross," he yelps with a laugh, swatting Kai's hand away but taking it back when it's offered to help him stand. The two then move on to the next place on their map. Along the way, Lloyd picks the conversation back up, musing, "I don't think that has anything to do with genes, by the way. Like, what's the point of trying to be heroic if you were just born with it?"

"Hm. Philosophical."

"Oh, I'll give you philosophy. I'm supposed to keep my family together. If I can't do that, then what—"

"Hey," Kai says, stopping Lloyd with a careful hand on his left shoulder. "You _will_. You're gonna bring him back, man, so don't go losing hope on me."

Those words would matter a lot more if it weren't for the fact that they don't find Morro. And now it's been _months_.

Lloyd and his mom resorted to asking the media and police for help, but those efforts proved not to work either. Garmadon even tried to pitch in, so he claimed, except the city seized the bulk of his assets. Fat lot of use he was.

Weeks and months and several media broadcasts and just a big pile of nothing — witnesses who couldn't guess where he went; security footage of the places he'd possibly gone to somehow missing entire segments of time; a neighbor at his old house who said she saw 'something' in the shadows but had no actual details. Fat lot of use.

Kai's of a mind that this dude just doesn't want to be found. Probably skipped town, started a new life away from it all. The other ninja vocally came to the same conclusion, but he won't let his squad leader give up because Lloyd without hope is like butter without bread: unhealthy, incomplete, depressed, reckless, and nothing Kai wants to see in the kid again.

It's actually pissing him off. Why would Morro make such a big deal about protecting Lloyd and then drive his family crazy with worry? He can't be bothered to drop a text that he's okay or something? Maybe he's punishing them. And it's those thoughts that Kai keeps fueled.

Anger's easier to face than...than the alternative. It's a testament to Lloyd's dumb luck, or maybe even his powers, that no one got killed that day. Lots of injuries, yeah, but no casualties. As far as the experts with access to dental records or missing persons reports or birth certificates or just _any_ form of identification at all could tell.

No, he'll just stay mad at what's obviously selfish behavior, and he won't say a single hopeless word to his little brother.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey guys, i'm SO sorry for the slow updates on this! i meant to keep a regular schedule, but my other fic is super inconsistent on its word count. the plot's picking up in the next update! i just want to give a massive thank you for the positive response it's got so far, and i hope to see you again for the good stuff :D


	4. Temple on the Unhidden Heart

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> content warning: underage drinking and very subtle references to past homophobic abuse, and the suicidal themes come up stronger

Six months are a fair amount of time for Morro to get to know someone. Living with the Freaks expedites the process, too. Gives him way too many up close and personal encounters. And as annoying...or gross...as a lot of those encounters have been, he's found himself maybe, actually, having an enjoyable experience in the middle of it all. There hasn't been a lot of people around in his life for him to study. Or talk to for that matter.

Wrayth thought he could hide behind his mask of carelessness forever. Because he watches every detail with too many conniving grins during game nights and sparring matches, his repetitive vernacular quickly became a tell rather than a cover. He toned it down when he realized Morro saw through him, but he's still keeping his element a secret. Whatever it is designates him as the household's source of money.

That's what he told Morro when he mentioned needing to get a job.

"Nah, you don't need one of those," Wrayth said over a shared cigar. "As long as you're under my roof, I'm responsible for ya'. Besides, you need to focus on your training."

He went along with it because the prospect of work in a minimum wage hellhole on top of Soul's ass-kick of a training regiment made going back to school look like heaven. It's pretty nice having that worry crossed off the list.

Except Wrayth isn't employed. None of them are. The fact that their 'benefactors' are without a doubt unwilling ones sets Morro on edge, but the cops haven't raided the apartment yet, so he's been trying not to stress about it.

The closest to anyone working is Ghoultar who volunteers part time at an animal shelter. Yeah. He's friendly and helpful to a fault, always takes over Bansha's chores when she tells him to, and does everything he can to make Morro feel at home. It's that desperation to be liked keeping him from respecting the guy in spite of his fighting prowess.

The hardest one to crack was Bansha. Is there anything she cares about, or does she just despise it all? Who knows. Certainly not her. She argues with everyone on a near constant basis, but there've been enough moments, usually directed at Soul, that called her motives into question. Things like wrapping the twisted ankle Morro managed to give his sensei last month or when she freed up her room so that their guest — "the _charity case_ sleeping on the mother-effing _porch_" — wouldn't sleep outside anymore. She's shacked up with Soul now. That's _so fun_ to listen to.

Morro wasn't able to live out on the balcony for long. He got away with it for about a week before management left Wrayth a polite, little citation. They put up curtains, but those were an 'obstruction' that didn't fly, either. The residents of this building can't even have a potted damn flower out there without permission. Which, funny enough, they had to ask about that because Bansha wasn't a fan of having Soul's collection of poisonous plants next to their bed. Morro thought it best not ask why he has them. If he minds his business, then he can do whatever he wants with his own room. So, even when the northern hemisphere blew its winter air down to the island, he's kept his window open.

And that's exactly why. It's the wind. He likes hearing it.

Now, Soul, _the_ Soul Archer. What a piece of work he is. Angry all the time but in a cold way and just as willing to bite Bansha's head off as he is to have her, but he really knows his stuff, and Morro's winning more matches than not under his direction. That skill is probably because he has yet to unlock his own element. A desire for strength driven by inadequacy. He's doing his level best to drill the same mentality into his student.

He's not getting the desired effect. He will, though, starting tonight.

On this particular evening, the five of them are having chicken parmesan with rice and catching up on the news together.

Morro about drops his plate when the anchor mentions his name. Then Koko and Lloyd pop up on screen.

She has her arm around him, and he's got a weird harness strap against his neck attached to something under his hoodie, and they both have these- these obnoxious looks plastered on their faces. Sadness? Confusion? _Shame_?

Koko takes in a breath before she says, _"Please, Morro, if you see this message, we want you to come home. You're loved and missed very much."_ She rubs her son's shoulder as he nods.

_"Come home."_

Well, _fuck_.

Dinner forgotten, he jumps off the couch and makes it a few strides towards the hallway, intending to pack his shit and bounce.

"Morro, wait," Wrayth interjects. He's standing, mutes the TV and puts his hands up, pleading. "You know you can't go back."

The other three blink their big owl eyes from their places in the living room. Agreeing with him.

"No, I don't know," he grinds, challenging fury rising like bile in his throat.

"I mean--" Wrayth assuages more carefully with both hands. He still holds the remote, probably a backup in case he needs a weapon. "I just mean not yet." Gesturing to Morro, he turns to Soul with a silent request for help before he gets punched.

Yes, _Sensei_, back him up.

Swallowing his last bite of food and setting the plate aside, Soul glances at the floor in mild unease. He steps closer to Morro than Wrayth dared to, his expression falling blank. "No one here would blame you if you went back at her command," he says, cautious considering the words he's choosing, "but this is something you should think about objectively."

Oh, Morro can't _wait_ to hear this.

With crossing arms, he prompts Soul to carry on. Fast.

He does, saying slowly, "She married a warlord of all people." Waving to the TV, he continues, "Her son is the Green Ninja, and even she herself is a famed warrior. Clearly, this is a person not contented with the _average_."

"So..." Morro means it as the start of a question, but he trails off because it's true. It's gotta be. Why else would she assume the worst and jump on the chance to drive him away? He's nothing. That's a fact he's known for a long time, but when Soul puts it like that, it's more... He stares at his hands, clenching them. It's more tangible.

What's he actually done in life to earn his aunt's love and concern? Saved Lloyd's sorry skin maybe, but look at what that amounted to.

Damn, he thought he was over this.

"She'll take you back. Of course she will," Wrayth adds.

"But will she ever really accept you?" Soul ends for him.

No. He's just a broken piece of ceramic.

Morro sounds pathetic and hates himself for it when, almost hoarse, he yells, "So what am I supposed to do?"

The Soul Archer takes another step closer and points at his heart, saying, "Unlock that power you've got tucked away in there. Who could have the strength to reject you then?"

A sharp tap on his chest.

Four people staring back at him. People who believe in him.

A promise that things will really change when _he_ does.

Okay, he can work towards that.

Soon, his 'more often than not' turns into 'always.' He runs circles around them, learns how to counter their elements, wakes _them_ up at the crack of dawn to train every single day.

His insufferable birth of new-found enthusiasm, as Bansha put it, has him doing all of this in less than four weeks, yet he still can't find his element. In an impatient rage, he asked Wrayth and the others to explain how they did it, but they've never known life without their gifts. None of them can describe the transition from 'not powered' to 'powered' until the day Soul almost puts Bansha in the hospital. Poisoned her with his saliva. He didn't mean to, of course. It just happened, and at last they all know.

Honestly, Morro probably had some kind of block rooted in incredulity, like his subconscious wasn't convinced of what was right in front of his eyes. But he's really seen it now.

"Mastery of the elements is formed from necessity," Soul illustrates as if he's suddenly the guru on it, "once one finds their place in the world."

Morro stands in the center of the mat, meditating, as his sensei circles him.

Great. That's only something he's been searching for his _entire life_.

Likely noting the way his eyebrows twitch at the thought, Soul steps close and quietly asks him to consider, "What is the piece of this world that has always spoken to you?"

He leans out of his window that night, having a smoke.

The wind's absolutely raging — a promise for the incredible storm on its way. For the past hour, it's just been tearing through the trees, ripping leaves off their branches and racing between the builds along the drive. He's having a good old time listening to it, watching as it knocks around the people trying to get inside.

Then a surprise gust yanks his cigarette right out of his hand.

He dives halfway over the windowsill to catch it, but its pinprick glow shrinks and disappears. Arm dangling, he stays in place, wheezing out a sigh.

That's how he lost his first birthday gift. It was made of paper, red and orange, and vanished into the sky when his bony five-year-old fingers lost their grip on the spool.

God, he cried so much that day. Aunt Koko brought it over just for him, and he lost it. Then his mother's idea for getting him to shut up made things worse. Just made him want to fly away with it.

He scoffs, settling his elbows on the windowsill to lean on them but remaining folded over it.

Over a decade later, he's still identifying with a stupid kite. He feels dumb hanging here, relating to being carried on the wind, away from his troubles yet still held by another's will. He hates that. Just let him go and be freed.

But those hands tighten because they're stronger. He wants them to be. Always free to fly but held fast and grounded so he doesn't lose himself up there.

Huh, he can...

The wind pulls at his hair, at his arms, trailing goosebumps across his back. He swears it's whispering to him.

"Hey, we're thinkin' pizza," he hears Wrayth at the door saying just as he slides out of the window.

The air is _tangible_. It rushes up against him and clamors in elation that he's not too heavy anymore. He hurtles towards the pavement, faster, more terrified — _exhilarated!_ — but with a twist of his body, he's dancing like a leaf over the forest, landing in a tree several yards away from the apartment.

"You—!" Wrayth screeches from the window, just as breathless as he is. "You're a crazy son of a bitch!"

Morro laughs and launches off the sturdy branch, wind bursting from his hands. He catches hold of the windowsill, feet braced on the plastic cladding under it. Outright cackling, Wrayth grabs his shirt and hauls him back into the room. Both hit the floor, bringing the desk chair nearby down with them.

Attracted by the commotion, the others race in, Bansha bellowing, "What in the hell's going on in here?"

"Oh, just a little _element unlocking_," Wrayth hollers, rolling over so he can kneel and catch his breath.

Rather than standing normally, Morro turns it into a demonstration by air blasting his way up in an arc. He bashes his head and spine on the wall, but he doesn't care. Who can give a damn about pain when, "Powers! I-I've got powers!"

Ghoultar cheers for him, Bansha deadpanning, "Yeah, that's what we told you."

Soul elbows past them. Hand on Morro's shoulder, he smirks and says, "I knew you would find it."

After a belated second, Morro blinks, realizing that his cheeks burn. His whole freaking face must be red. In a spike of panic, his brain defaults to literally blowing a funnel of wind against Soul's chest. Bansha and Ghoultar split at the last second, letting the guy tumble unobstructed into the hallway.

"No shit, I found it!" Morro shouts. Foot on the overturned chair and fists pumping above his head, he howls, "Who do you think I am? I'm the god damn wind master!"

Soul shakes off his stun and gives a victorious, "Ha!" Wrayth claps him on the back. Ghoultar whoops again, and Bansha rolls her eyes, but she's smiling ever so slightly.

Pizza's definitely in order. Beer and spiked boba tea, too.

"You know what this means," Bansha says, a pepperoni slice between her teeth.

Wrayth holds his drink up, declaring, "Time to pick a call sign, my friend."

Morro's eyes bug a little. He's been aware that this would become a thing, but a part of him didn't think that it would. It's a...really dumb gimmick, and yet he's not as adverse to the concept as he was when he first moved in.

He's taking too long to answer apparently because Ghoultar speaks up. "'Wind Master' is stupid. What about 'Wind Waker'?"

One, _rude_, and two, "Isn't that a game?"

"Yeah!"

"Pass."

"Aw."

Wrayth snickers, offering, "_'Morrowind'_?"

"Stop."

"Well, it's your damn identifier, dude," he bites back, tipping his nearly-empty drink, the muffled conclusion being, "Pick something."

The term pops into Morro's mind then, like his subconscious, while being busy not believing anything it was told, has been privately mulling over the idea for months and now has the chance to tell him about it. "'Skytoucher,'" he decides.

Wrayth makes a disgusted hum, crinkling his nose as he sets his cup aside. "That sounds dirty. Sky_toucher_. Like you're touching a girl named Skye."

Why can't they lay off him? "It's a song, jackass."

"It's an embarrassment."

"Whatever." He crosses his arms, sinking into the couch. "I didn't want to be part of your discount ninja brigade anyway."

"Heh, that just sucks for you then," Wrayth says, snarky, slinging his arm around Morro's neck. "'Cause you're stuck with us."

Maybe he is, but that doesn't stop him from sneaking out the next morning. He's not really leaving. Like, he'll go back, for sure. Yep. He just wants to visit Aunt Koko, show her what he's become, and just... Well, he doesn't know. He'll figure it out later.

The thick, battered door appears in front of him like the barrier he's put between his memories and the emotions strung up with them.

He sucks in a breath — _it's okay_ — and knocks.

After several long seconds, the TV inside quiets and shuffling movement heads toward him. Tensing without meaning to, he closes his eyes.

The door creaks.

"Something I can help you with?" a man's bored voice asks.

Morro snaps his eyes open. He knows he's got the right apartment, yet it's a short, balding dude he's never seen before standing in front of him. Definitely not someone his aunt would get with, and there's unfamiliar furniture in the parts of the living room he can see. "Koko's not here...is she."

The man waves his hand, shooing Morro away as he shuts the door with a harsh click.

Well, that's disappointing, but the front desk should know where they moved to.

The ditzy receptionist there slaps him with more disappointment, saying with finality, "Okay, mister, I may be new at this, but I'm positive I can't give you that information," once they're in the full swing of an argument.

"I'm related to them. I've slept over for years!"

"Show me some ID then."

"Fine!" he barks, reaching for his wallet. His wallet that's not in his back pocket. Or anywhere else on his person.

He's going to hurtle! The entire planet! _Into the sun!_

The lady's arching her brow over widely angry eyes, tapping her nails with a level of impatience high enough to rival his existential fury. "I'm really going to have to ask you to leave now."

He tries to bargain, keeping his voice even as he states, "Look, I know you still have Koko's number, so just call her. You don't even have to tell me. Just do it. You'll see."

A vein pops in her forehead. "I'll see security escorting you out."

"_I'd_ like to _see_ them try—" he snarls, slamming his hands too far on the desk as he sends pens and papers swirling in a tornado around her, neither flinching.

That's when Wrayth, his god damn _stalker_ apparently, shouts his name from the entrance, causing the office materials to fall in a ring on the floor. He runs across the room and throws his arm around Morro's neck again, harsher than the night before. Yanking him up with a hand on his chest, he whispers, "The hell you doing, man?" through the corner of his mouth. He says to the receptionist, "Sorry about my friend here. Let me just get him out of your hair," having to drag Morro until they're outside.

"Let _go_ of me!" he shouts, shoving Wrayth away.

"She was gonna call the cops on you," the other says, giving him space, but then he races ahead to keep Morro from leaving, saying, "Look, you can't just go gallivanting off." His eyes are wide, like he's scared, not angry.

But Morro is. "Why not? I found my power. I can go home now!"

"You don't—" he starts, clamming up. He takes a deep breath, giving a small, "We've talked about this. Your home is with us, remember?" by way of a real answer.

It's calming Morro down, though, just a little bit. He's probably right. What kind of idiot does it make _him_ to go back to people who—

"Listen," Wrayth says, oblivious to Morro's thoughts despite the way he's searching the other's eyes. "If you care at all about your family, you can't see them again. It'll make you...weak."

His calm severed at the neck, Morro shouts, "What the _hell_ does _that_ mean?" He throws his hand out as he does, a blast of air so powerful when it crashes against a passing car, the driver almost swerves into the next lane. The people close to them on the sidewalk scatter.

Wrayth gulps. Actually gulps in fear and swipes at the sweat beading on his forehead. "I know. I know. It's- I think— Okay, I think it's time you met the master. He can explain it better."

Allowing himself to deflate a fraction, the wind dies down. If Wrayth's resorting to bringing up his clinical insanity, then maybe Morro will finally get some answers.

"Fine," he mutters.

"What?"

"I said fine! Take me to this ghost already!"

Wrayth shrinks. "Yeah, y-yeah, awesome. Follow me." He turns, beckoning.

Morro takes a step after him, and hen he spots a— No, that's _his_ wallet sitting innocently in the nearby alley's shadow.

"That yours?" Wrayth asks as Morro picks it up, his voice way too bright. "Jeez, dude, keep track of your stuff better."

Yeah, he'll get right on that.

He doesn't notice the property manager running outside and losing sight of him, a photo of him with a forwarding address written on the back in hand.

* * *

Wrayth leads him to a part of town he's never visited. The old district feels empty, sprawling with forgotten stories. All of the businesses are closed down and left to rot. Maybe four cars pass by on the road. A place so secluded is supposed to inspire cause for concern, isn't it? Well, it'd be stupid to start worrying about anything nefarious being done with him after all this time.

They cross through an empty parking lot, heading for a squat tan and maroon building, the windows boarded up and sign stripped bare. By its facade, it probably used to be a restaurant.

He follows Wrayth to the back, along to a door that's most certainly locked.

"Alright, man, we're here," he announces.

"Clearly."

Wrayth snorts a laugh, nodding, then grows earnest as he says, "Listen. Things are gonna get...a bit overwhelming, but you—" He cuts himself off, noticing the steady decay of Morro's patience. "Okay, yeah, just gimme a sec," he mumbles. Before Morro can ask how he plans to get them inside, the guy _falls_. He's melted into nothing on the ground, only his shadow remaining. It moves on its own, slipping through the thin space under the door.

Morro gapes like an idiot until a clack inside signaling the door coming unlocked makes him remember the company he keeps. He shouldn't be so surprised.

His body restored, Wrayth laughs again when he lets Morro in. "Regretting the doubt you used to have in us?"

"Just shut up and show me this 'master,'" he snaps.

Definitely a restaurant as the door leads to a grungy kitchen. Wrayth stops to snag a handful of ice cubes from a freezer, explaining that they keep a small generator running to power the place. Again, Morro has to remind him with a look that he doesn't care one iota.

When they emerge into the dining area, he's met with something he can only describe as occult.

An elaborate magic circle's been drawn on the dark carpet in chalk, six smaller ones equidistant on the line around it. Seven objects sit in the center of each. The primary one holds a bundle of bamboo shoots. In the rest, it's a candle made of red wax. A pointy, blue lightbulb. A bowl of water, another of dirt, and a tea coaster that Wrayth sets the ice down on. And finally, a bell-shaped wind chime with a yellow tassel.

He stares at that last one, knowing full well what they all represent.

This is about to get real, isn't it?

Pulling out his lighter, Wrayth kneels by the candle. With a cocky grin and the quirk of an eyebrow, he adds the final element.

Both shield their eyes from an intense burst of ashen green light filling the room the instant the wick burns. A sound like firecrackers going off and shrill ringing quiets within moments, fading to a human sigh of satisfaction.

"Hello, Morro."

Lowering his hand, Morro finally gets a grip on his surprise, not letting it show on his face. If he otherwise feels a little foolish, he sucks it up, squaring his shoulders.

An old man wearing flowing white robes and a long, black beard floats in the center circle, wispy strands of something unnatural trailing him. The only real color on him is that washed-out green filtering his whole body. He continues the greeting with, "It's good to see you at last." His sharp eyes, loops of white in deep, ugly sockets, seem to say that he's been seeing Morro all along.

An _actual_ ghost. Alright, cool.

"Your _students_," Morro says, nodding to Wrayth, "never told me your name."

"How inconsiderate of them. In life," he introduces, bowing, "I was known as Sensei Yang."

Crossing his arms, Morro leans against the wall. "Right."

"You've come here for answers, so I won't waste your time," Yang says, waving his hand before joining it to the other behind his back, "I'm sure it's not lost on one as discerning as yourself how sick this world has always been." That hand returns to make a fist, the ghost's voice layering with anguish. "The afflictions it suffers."

Morro cocks his eyebrow. It's already obvious where this is going.

"My intentions are to return to this world. There is much I've learned since my...passing that I wish to bring to the realm of the living so that _all_ may experience a true _life_." He smiles as if he's just come up with the single most radical idea anyone's ever had.

Wrayth's grinning, too, but uses that big brain of his to pick up on Morro's lack of enthusiasm. "Man, he means he can end suffering."

Humoring them, he asks, "Uh huh. How?"

Yang calls attention back to himself by floating closer to the circle's edge. It seems like he can't leave it. "By eliminating the eternal vying of power between life and death," he explains so eloquently.

"Uh _huh_." Shifting his weight, Morro asks, "You're just, what, gonna make people immortal?"

"No, no, unfortunately, that's impossible, but what I can do is take away the pain as the soul crosses from this realm to the next. It will be as though no death occurred."

He's not seeing the logic between that and letting people experience life or whatever. He'll revisit it in a minute because the first thing Yang said is the least abstract point he's brought up and therefore more concerning. "And you have a plan for that?" He looks to Wrayth, who shrugs, both looking to the ghost. "To come back to life?"

Yang glances away, giving consideration to his answer. "Yes," he says after a moment, floating to the ground. He scoops up the bundle of bamboo, bringing it to everyone's eye level. Almost as soon as he straightens, the bundle falls through his hand like it's realized he's not supposed to be able to touch it. "As you can see, this is no good."

"Then _what_ is the plan." He didn't hike across town for two hours just to watch a useless demonstration, and if this guy's skirting around the explanation, it can't be anything good.

"Master," Wrayth interjects. The two share a small, wordless conversation, ending with a tense look from Yang that shuts him up. There's an opinion he really wants to voice, evidenced by how he keeps glancing at Morro, but Yang won't let him.

Shaking off the distraction, Yang says, "Now, your question, Morro. There are two methods for returning to the world. I could reincarnate, but that is not expedient as I would forfeit all of my knowledge." He moves closer to the circle. "Instead, what I require is an existence that still walks this earth to host my departed spirit while I begin my work," he concludes, gesturing to his incorporeal form.

Okay, ghost possession, logical in its own way, but that doesn't—

"It is my humble request that you, the master of wind, allow me to possess your body."

The double take Morro does gives him whiplash as he half shouts, "Me? _Why_?"

Wrayth groans, stomping away from them.

Ignoring him, Yang explains, "It's simple. Everything that lives, breathes. With your power, I will usher in the greatest paradigm shift humanity will ever know. Or should I say, _you_ will. I understand the shadow you dwell under. Do this, and you will be as tremendous as — or _better_ than — the Green Ninja."

Morro's almost to the door but stops when he catches those last words. Being honest with himself, that doesn't sound so bad. If he's better than _Lloyd_, with all of the great Green Ninja's love, support, and unconditional adoration, then he'll have everything and more and never live in the dirt again. But he's not stupid enough to think a thing like that doesn't have a catch. It's _Morro_. Everything costs something when it's for him. "Yeah, and what's gonna happen to me?"

Yang dips his head, his beard hiding most of his expression. The words come slow, careful like Soul had been, as he says, "In a sense, you will be dead as my spirit regains vitality from you, and eventually yours would withdraw to the realm of the departed."

Exactly. So what's the point of helping if he doesn't get to enjoy the rewards? That's all there is to it. He's not the one for this.

"That's what you long for, isn't it?" Yang asks, his head raising, eyes wide and curious. And glinting with a smirk just seconds away from splitting his face.

No, it isn't.

"But you're afraid. You don't want all the time you've already spent in this world to amount to nothing."

He's not afraid of anything, and who gives a shit about their time. Everyone dies, and it means _nothing_ in the end anyway. People hurt and don't make it right, and then they carry on like it'll change on the renowned, unknowable 'some day.' And they don't— they can't fight it. _He_ can't change anything. Why should he want to?

"I can see into your mind, Morro. You know I'm telling the truth."

It's _not_ the truth.

Yang humphs. Maybe he's annoyed because Morro's doing a fat lot of ignoring him. "What I'm offering you is the chance to have both of your desires met. Be my vessel, and you can leave this realm knowing you made it different. That you did something _good_ for it and surpassed the ones who pushed you to the state you've found yourself in. 'Killing two birds with one stone' is the expression, yes?"

Morro flinches, enraged. What does this dead, old bastard know about anything?

"If you can read my mind," he snarls, "then _read this."_ He imagines the most obscene expletives he can conjure as he bolts from the building.

Wrayth cries out, trying to follow him, but as soon as his feet hit the pavement outside, he air blasts onto the rooftops, keeping up the momentum until he can't hear anything but the wind.

_Nobody _gets to decide what happens to him. His fate is going to be _his_ choice, and it will _only_ be to serve his needs, not for anybody else.

None of them deserve it.

He flies around like that for at least an hour. Going back to the apartment isn't even a consideration. Soul and the others have to be in on the plan. This _whole_ time, they were just preparing him to _die_. It's ultimately his own fault, though. He _knows_ better than to trust anyone, yet he trundled along on that path as if—

As _if_—

When he finally crash lands on solid ground, scraping the hell out of his elbows, it's sunset and his stomach growls in fury at him for the all the stamina he burned up. He's got some money in his wallet, but he has to save it for now. He'll need it later for new housing. Transportation. Wait, no, he can _fly_, so he just needs a job. That's his number one priority. Who knows how long it's gonna take.

His stomach growls again, insistent. Dizzying. He needs to work on how he breathes while using that much of his power, damn.

Glancing at his surroundings, he heads down an alley, approaching a dumpster sequestered in the back. He can hardly stomach it, but he has to get used to the life again as soon as possible. Climbing onto a foothold, he hefts himself up to get a look at whatever food might be thrown away.

"This is no place for any family of mine," a sagely voice says behind him.

Leaping off the dumpster, he whirls around, snatching a discarded metal pipe and brandishing it. It's another old damn man, this one with a longer beard and outfit just as ridiculous as Yang's. He goes the extra mile with his rice hat, walking stick, and an aura of total serenity. He's eyeing Morro's weapon with amusement.

It takes a second, but it dawns on Morro that he knows exactly who this guy is. He's been aware of Wu's daily involvement in Lloyd's life for a while, but he's never spent time with the man himself. Tossing the pipe back on the ground, he points at Wu, furiously asserting, "_We _are not family."

"Hmm, yes, my brother hasn't been joined with your aunt for some time now. Nonetheless, my home is open to you."

Holy _shit_. Wu doesn't know. He doesn't have any clue what Morro's just run away from. "If you don't _piss off—"_

"There is no need for that sort of language."

"Oh my god, yeah, I _know_ you're the reason Lloyd's such a baby back bitch, but that's not working on me, so f—"

Wu about-heels before he can get the word out. "If you're coming, you will leave _that _at the door," he calls over his shoulder.

It doesn't take much. It takes so _stupidly_ little that Morro adds 'psyche evaluation' to his mental note of things he needs.

But it's the awful smell wafting from the dumpster. The heaviness in the air, heralding a rainy night on its way. The _tup-tup_ of Wu's staff as he walks away. He _can't_.

He gives a frustrated scream and trudges after his uncle.

One night. _One_.

* * *

What was that stupid word he thought of the other day?

Trundling. That's what he’s doing again.

But it's different because he's not investing one ounce of his emotions into this situation. It's easy. Wu leaves him alone all the time, doesn't tell him to do anything, doesn't ask where he's going every morning. All he does is say, "Welcome home," when Morro returns.

And yeah, _those_ particular words can slide their happy way back into Wu's throat before it leaves his mouth, but otherwise, the situation is fine. He's looking for work and seems to be getting better results than before. It's only a matter of waiting until he can get away forever.

Besides, he can't imagine there's anything worse than being asked to give up body and soul to some cause he doesn't believe in. Wu would have to try _really _hard, like, harder than he tried with Lloyd probably, but so far this first week, he's just letting Morro live.

Now, if he could just get his nightmares to leave him in peace, too. That's five nights in a row that he's had to rip himself from sleep. It's always the same. Starts with typical dream shit where he's not even himself, but by the end, he's stuck in his own skin, and his father's there, and he's caught doing something he shouldn't, and that's it. That's it. He can't stay.

He has to be awake and miserable, smothering his racing thoughts with paper, trapping them in it so they can't infect his mind. There's no desk in the guest bedroom he's been using, and he needs one to focus, to not fall asleep, so he's been setting up shop at the kitchen table.

Maybe Wu's finally fed up with it. Normally, he doesn't leave his room this late at night, but for some reason now, he shuffles in and stops at the counter.

Morro pretends to ignore him, so he's not sure if his uncle spares him a glance.

Wu fills a teapot with water and sets it to boil on the stove. A hankering for tea. Understandable. He should go do something else while he waits then, but he doesn’t. He literally stands there and _waits_ for the tea to brew. Not a peep out of him.

When the pot whistles, Morro stifles a sigh that might actually be a yawn. One step closer to peace.

Wu's pouring a mug. He's putting the pot away. He's stepping towards the door, which is past the table, and—

He sets the mug down by Morro's notebook.

Pen stopping mid scratch, his knuckles go white with his tightening grip.

Wu doesn't show any sign of moving it along.

_Great._

Rigid, he leans back only an inch. "And that is?"

"Chamomile."

He stares at the mug for a moment, the curling steam, and drums his fingers on the table. "Maybe I don't want to sleep."

Wu gives him a thoughtful smile as he sits in the chair across from him. "Avoiding your fears does not diminish them."

Yeah, of course he'd say that.

Options. If Morro refuses the drink, then Wu might get angry for going through the trouble of making it. If he lets it sit there, untouched, then the old man is gonna _sit there_ waiting until Morro does something. If he yells, then he might get kicked out. If he drinks it, then he goes back to sleep and deals with things that aren't real anymore. Clearly, his oh so benevolent uncle just wants him to suffer no matter what he chooses.

He about chugs the first gulp then takes a second careful sip, closing the notebook. No hot leaf water is gonna make him tired.

Satisfied by the apparent acquiescence, Wu inclines his head. "Would you like to talk about them?"

"Um." His poetry...? Oh, the nightmares. Taking another long sip and scowling, he glances away.

Wu nods, weirdly accepting the answer.

It becomes kind of a routine. Job hunting, nightmares, writing, weak-ass sleepytime tea waiting for him on the table. Repeat for two more weeks. Then he finally lands a job as a bagging clerk. The work is so mindless, yet it takes everything out of him, day after day on little to no rest.

One evening, he finds a thin book left on the bed. It's about lucid dreaming. The chapter going over how to use it to change the course of a nightmare is highlighted.

It doesn't make sense. Wu should only care if he needs Morro conscious after work, but he's still giving him space, not demanding anything of him.

Well, if _he's_ not going to, then Morro will do the demanding.

"Train me."

"Pardon?"

"You heard me. This is a dojo. You trained Lloyd and his friends. I have power, too, and I..."

Wu wipes off his calligraphy brush, waiting for Morro to man up and use his words.

He gulps and reminds himself that pursuing strength isn't the same as admitting weakness. Soul did manage to teach him that. "I need to learn how to use it."

The brush finds its place in the inkwell as Wu looks up. "I would be glad to, on one condition."

"Which is?"

"You get your GED."

That pisses him off for the rest of the day, but he sleeps on it and wakes up the next morning ready to take the advice. His future job prospects are proof enough that he needs it. So that's that on that. He works forty-four hours a week, does his dumb schoolwork afterwards, trains on Sunday plus his days off, and saves every penny to eventually rent his own place. Well, not _every_ penny.

Today, he double checks the date and leaves the store with hair bleach and permanent green dye. The yellow's grown out a few inches since he updated it last year, same as the year before that when it was orange.

He pretty much expects Wu to make a rude comment when he carries his wet towel to the laundry room, inadvertently passing his uncle in the hall.

"Oh, your hair," he chirps.

Morro halts, one hand threading through the green streak as if he can hide it.

And the incoming rudeness...is a kind question. "Does it mean something?" Wu asks, eyeing it with open curiosity.

His brain grinds to a screeching halt next, fumbling to come up with an answer. How can his uncle be so perceptive? "Uh. No."

Wu's expression wilts a little, no doubt seeing through the lie. He presses for the truth, saying, "Come now, you would not spend your meager earnings on something that has no value to you."

Okay, there's the rudeness. Maybe he _would_. Wu doesn't know him, he could be planning to waste every— He's not moving along again. "It..." Morro starts, trying to explain it as cryptically — _safely_ — as he can. "It means pride."

"Pride?" The confused light in his eyes seems safe enough. Maybe he doesn't know. Of course, he's quick to dig up the nuance. "Ah, in whom? Your cousin?"

"Like hell—" Morro sputters before cutting off the string of curses he wants to say. Clearing his throat, instead he goes with, "Um, no sir, it's not."

"I see." The confusion doesn't diminish so much as shift to something more somber. Then there's disappointment as his eyes flick to the left, followed by a slow drift to the right. Without looking at Morro, he says, "Wait for me in the kitchen, please," and continues on the way he was going.

Morro hurries to put away the towel and consider what just happened, leaning forward on the dryer. Oh, he _hates_ this feeling. This thundering heartbeat and sick weight in his stomach. Wu _has _to know. He's like freakishly old. Wise and perceptive and aware of society at large. There's no way he doesn't get it.

His phone and wallet are in the bedroom. He can run, grab them, then jump out the window. He's got enough money put back by now to rent a shack up in the mountains for a little bit, and he's almost done with his GED. It'll be fine.

Half way to the room, he stops short, suddenly furious with himself. He's really gonna just run away? What's his training all this time been for if it's not to stand his ground? No, he _will _go to the kitchen, and if Wu even _thinks _about trying anything—

He waits there, arms crossed but ready.

After a minute, Wu makes his appearance. He carries a shallow box that he sets on the table. "I intended to present it to you next Sunday, but," he opens the flaps, "it may not be ready now."

Peering inside, Morro gets a peek before Wu lifts up the top half of a gi. It's dark gray, almost black, with a brilliant yellow lapel, the word 'wind' embroidered in black thread across it. There are three tiny intersecting triangles inside a silver hexagon on either side of the chest. More yellow trims out the ends of the sleeves. It looks like it's paired with light gray pants, a silver belt, and black wraps.

All the fury and terror he felt moments ago evaporates, his arms falling by his sides. He doesn't know what to say. It's beautiful. It can't _really_ be for—

"Wind," Wu continues, "is an element without a defined color, so it's left up to interpretation." He lays the shirt out on the table, setting his hands on his hips in defeat. "My apologies. I assumed you preferred yellow. If it's not to your taste, I can have it—"

"No." It's the same color Yang used, and as much as Morro hates the guy, seeing the ninja elements all together like that, his included. It just clicks. "No, it's fine actually. Um..." He touches the cloth, running his thumb over the silver accents. He really doesn't understand it. Wu's asking something of him, because a thing like this carries meaning, too, and if he wears it, then he accepts the responsibilities of that. Somehow, his uncle, his sensei, believes he can bear it. That's the cost of everything he's been given during his stay here. Wu isn't expecting him to sacrifice his life for some greater good, but to better himself. Looking up, he says, "Thank you."

Wu nods with a smile. "There is little about the self that's worth being proud of," he says as he folds up the shirt, replacing it in the box. "Too much of it leads to terrible consequences; however, you've found one aspect that does matter." He gives the box to Morro. "I hope you wear it with the same pride as your love."

And he does. He really does. He can't wait to try it on for their next training session, but it's just his luck that he wakes up Saturday morning with a violently sore throat. Only two hours into his weekend shift, the manager, catching him cough one too many times, forces him to go home. Resisting his instinct to snap that it's not 'home,' he flies — or soon _walks _— back to the dojo. He'll just sleep this cold off, no problem.

Like seven in the evening rolls around while he's comatose, and he's rudely woken by his uncle wanting entrance to the room.

"Go away," he yells. He's not expecting his voice to be so hoarse and coughs hard into his wrist. So yeah, he feels like shit enough without Sensei Wu seeing him this pathetic. He _did _see him about to go hunting for dinner in a dumpster, though, so how much worse can this be?

That train of thought reminds him that he's supposed to be keeping a leash on his stupid emotions, but here he's been revealing all his secrets and letting the old man butter him up just like Wrayth. God, he feels like shit.

Not much time later, his uncle returns, declaring, "Morro, I'm coming in," just as he elbows the door aside. He's got a full tray in hand. Tea, honey and ginger, freaking chicken noodle soup.

Throwing the blanket over his head, Morro shoves his face into the pillow. "I said leave me alone," he grouses.

The tray clinks on the end table. "Well, if it's your wish to overcome this on your own, I won't interfere, but I was under the impression you wanted to grow stronger."

Morro rolls over away from Wu, forcing himself with every ounce of his might not to cough. His nose chooses to start running then. He has to sniffle, breaking his restraint. It's more spit down his windpipe than throat soreness, so it becomes a big show of him choking to death while Wu pats him on the back, passing him the mug.

_Fine._

The tea smells like lemon and tastes like it already has some honey in it. It's unreal how nice it feels on his throat.

"I wish you told me this morning that you were feeling unwell," Sensei's saying, his hand reaching for Morro's forehead. He stops just short of touching. "May I?"

Blinking his wide eyes into a semblance of calm, Morro sets his jaw and nods.

Wu touches him for only a few seconds before giving back his personal space. "You have a fever now," he sighs. "You don't rest properly in the slightest."

Morro huffs. "Are you trying to help or insult me?"

"I will never insult you."

That means it's the other option. Which is funny. It's _so_ interesting, because if Sensei's such a master of these elemental powers, then that means he assembled the Secret Ninja Force with the knowledge that Lloyd and his friends had them before they even knew about it. In other words, _that _means he didn't need Morro to become aware of his power in order to track him down. He had over six months to decide if his 'home was open' or not, so, "Why didn't you look for me before?"

"You did not want to be found, therefore the wind refused to guide me to you."

"I still didn't. Not then." The last thing he wanted was to fall back into the exact same situation he'd just run away from.

Wu gives him a critical eye. There's an edge to it, yet he remains gentle when he says, "Are you sure?"

Everything about that enrages Morro. "Of course I'm sure!"

Unconvinced, Wu only hums in thought. Out of nowhere, he produces a new book. "You should read this as well."

_Ninjanuity. _Copyright, Master Wu. How obnoxious.

"What does that have to do with anything?"

"I know you understand it, Morro. You know that the way of the ninja is not just a way to fight." He sets the book down beside the tray he brought in. "Read it. Meditate on it. Uncover the depths of yourself you've shut out." With that, he leaves Morro in peace.

_Maybe_ he shut them out for a reason.

* * *

He feels better enough the following Sunday to be out in the training yard. Having nothing else to do while he recovered, he read the whole book. A lot of it was mystic bullshit. That's what he's calling it. What else can he call something that freaked him out with how much introspection it asked him to do?

It also happens to be a few days before his nineteenth birthday. Looking back, he can't believe how different things are. What he lost, where he is now, everything he might be becoming. He's wearing a gi designed just for him. A year ago, he thought this was the most embarrassing way anyone's life could turn out. Now, it's all he wants to work towards.

In spite of this weird sort of hope he's feeling, the book never helped him find out why there's a current of unease building in his chest.

The wind drags across his skin like sandpaper. It's clamoring counter to his will as if it wants to tell him something instead of do what it's told, but he can't understand it when it's zipping in every direction. He can't be bothered to listen to it right now anyway. These drills aren't gonna perfect themselves.

With his customary cup of tea, Sensei Wu sits off to the side, under the awning. He's got a soft smile, distant and squinty-eyed.

"Okay, what?" Morro asks about it, sending a flat kick into his training dummy's gut.

"Oh, I'm just remembering the last time we met, about, ah, thirteen years ago. Do you recall? Such a shy and twitchy child, now a strong and confident young man."

That thrums against the undercurrent. His mood souring, he says, "Yeah, I guess 'twitchy' is a word for it." He doesn't have any memory of his first meeting with his uncle. He just remembers being scared all the time.

His next kick misfires, going too high, and _cruel_. The dummy's lucky to keep its head.

Standing still, he breathes harder than the effort warranted. The wind howls through his ears, picking up.

"Did you read the chapter on elemental alignment?" Sensei asks.

"Yep." The idea is that there's this choice between using an element for creation or for destruction — to build up with it or break down. The obvious answer would be to use his wind for the good aspect, but the chapter makes it clear that neither one is the objective 'good choice.' It's about finding balance between both. Typical, stupid, useless— He _can't_ find balance when all he wants to do is break.

"Imagine your ideal. Focus on it."

He doesn't really know what his ideal looks like, either. He sees himself at his most vulnerable. And that kite. If he could be that instead of the incompetent person watching in awe as it flew, maybe that could work for him.

"What are you imagining?" Sensei Wu asks.

Turning away, Morro hides his eye roll. "I, uh, had this kite as a kid."

"Oh, did you? Orange and yellow, yes?"

Morro snaps back to stare at him. "Yeah. How—"

Sensei's lazy smile turns knowing, and he nods, saying, "I'm glad to know it found you well."

"That was—" he starts to respond, but it's not like the statement needs clarification. Shame drowns his surprise instead. "I lost it."

"That's alright. It served its purpose, did it not?"

How can he be so perceptive, not to mention crazy, but accepting at the same time? He's gotta be up to something that Morro can't figure out.

Sipping his tea, Wu goes on, "Now, as for discovering the full potential of your power—"

The main door inside slams, followed by running feet. "Master?" a familiar voice calls out.

"Ah, just in time," Wu mutters. Matching the _unwelcome_ guest's volume, he responds, "You are late."

The training yard door slides open as Lloyd babbles, "I know, I'm really sorry, Nya asked for help on this project, and I lost track of—" He freezes, catching sight of Morro standing there just as shocked, their eyes locking like mortified wild animals. "Track of time..."

The thrum becomes a churning wave, bolstering the wind around them into a frenzied gale.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> would you believe it that this was originally gonna be five chapters? the entire plot was laid out and i thought that'd be plenty of room lol. anyway, on that subject, it's been determined that i can't fit any destinyshipping stuff in this fic; HOWEVER, there will be a sequel titled "Fortune Days" where the ship will be the main focus


	5. Fly By Night, Only on the Crooked Path

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time for giving up the ghost // Fuck, it's you I hate the most  
Maybe there's no guarantee // it doesn't matter  
This time I might just disappear // This time I might just dis—
> 
> ~ Mystery Skulls

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> slightly longer chapter this time because you is good chickens and it's mini-pancake-making-hours (and lloyd jibberjabbers for almost 2k words, good lord). also while you're here, note that the narration is morro's thought process and doesn't always reflect reality, so please don't assume that the awful conclusions he comes to or his perceptions are my opinion or anything

"Morro?"

Lloyd shields his eyes from the sun with his right hand. He's not wearing his hoodie.

Crossing his arms, Morro kicks his leg and leans against the training dummy. The padding tied around it shifts, almost dumping him on the ground. "'S-sup, mh, what's up?" he says, hopping away from it.

Lloyd glances around, 'observing' the gusty wind, his squinted eyes narrowing further. Then he shoots back to Morro, yelling, "Mom and I looked everywhere for you! You've been living here this whole time?" He casts his uncle a withering glare but seems to care more about Morro right now.

He almost leans against the dummy again. "Yeah, sure, definitely."

Lloyd throws his arm down, demanding, "Are you gonna be sarcastic, or are you gonna tell me the truth?"

Ah, _truth_. There's a funny subject. "I don't know, Green Ninja. You tell me."

"Oh, look at that," Sensei Wu lilts. "My tea's gone cold." He grabs his cup and retreats inside, his peek as the door shuts being his silent, 'You two catch up.'

Morro growls in his throat. A warning beforehand would've been _so _nice.

He beckons Lloyd to follow him with a harsh nod. There's a gate leading to the woods behind Wu's property where they can chill under a nice tree on a _private_ hill. Lloyd sits with his knees drawn to his chest while Morro stretches out, propped up on his elbows, watching the leaves sway in wild tandem with his thoughts.

Long seconds go by without a word between them.

Morro has nothing to say to him. Lloyd's probably just a coward, but eventually he clears his throat, starting, "It's you, right? You're controlling the wind."

"Yep."

Running his left hand through his hair, he sighs, "I never did give you that explanation, huh?"

"Nope," Morro clips, as outwardly calm as the wind isn't.

"He didn't tell you?"

"Didn't ask."

"H'okay, well," he taps the dirt with his right hand, "remember when the big world domination thing was happening on the mainland and that, uh, construction worker saved us all?"

Morro nods. Ninjago's been dealing with Garmadon since before Lloyd was born, but when _one _business mogul from the mainland gets an overlord complex, everybody loses their damn minds. That was four years ago now.

"My first mission," Lloyd says, wistful.

Morro rolls his eyes so far into his skull that they hurt then flicks them to his cousin. "You're seriously telling me you were _thirteen_?"

"Yeaaah. Uncle Wu had been training me for a while already, but I sucked..._so bad_. Kinda got myself captured and everything, really embarrassing, so he benched me until we assembled a team."

"Right. Your friends. How convenient."

"It wasn't, actually. I mean, they weren't my, uh, I didn't know them yet." He waves his right hand through his memories, saying, "Zane approached me first. He'd used, like, voice recognition to figure out it was me," he laughs, scratching his chin, "I thought the jig was up," and keeps talking with his hand, "but Uncle Wu took one look at him and said, 'Oh, I see,' or something and gave him his suit."

"Sensed his element," Morro supplies.

“Yep," he confirms, tapping his nose. "So, Zane knew Cole, and Cole knew Jay," he continues, counting them out on his fingers. "They were the harder ones to convince, but then we had Kai and Nya. They talked them into it somehow." Smiling, he stares at the ground, reminiscing on what must be some super great little memories. He snaps out of it, glancing to Morro and finally noticing the attention his arm's getting. With a nervous chuckle, he says, "Right, the elephant." He holds it under the tree's shadow so the stripes of glowing green show up. The bulk is silver, but it has gold trim on the fingers, the wrist, and scant points along the energy lines. "I was using a prosthetic for a while, but it just...it wasn't working out, and I still wanted to be a ninja, so Dad had his engineers work with Zane's parents, and they whipped this up for me like four months ago."

About the same amount of time Morro's had his powers.

Whatever dumb significance about that he can reflect on gets drowned out by Lloyd continuing with his rant. "While they were programming it, they recorded all my brainwaves for the other arm, turned that into code and figured out the hemisphere stuff so they could flip it for my left side. Man, like, it was just so _cool_. Almost worth losing the original just to see everything that went into building the new one."

Morro allows a tiny smirk while Lloyd nerds out, settling back to listen.

He shows off the thing's range of movement, rambling about its power source and all kinds of techy junk Morro has trouble keeping up with. At the end, he points his fist towards the sky, left hand on his metal upper arm, delivering, "And check this out," with a smirk. A panel on his forearm pops open, then a laser no bigger than a thin flashlight extends clear of its compartment. "Awesome, right? I'm like Cyborg now."

"More like Buzz Lightyear."

"No!" The laser retreats as Lloyd covers it with his hand, pure horror on his face. "You make everything lame," he shouts, only half-serious. After a moment, he sighs, explaining, "It was Mom's idea since...green is stupidly incapable of any offensive power. It just stuns people, though."

"Hm," Morro grunts. "How's she doing anyway?"

Lloyd grins. "She's good. Real good. We're in a better part of town now. She got promoted. S-she thinks it's because of me, but she really earned it."

Nodding as he raises his eyebrows for a second to himself, Morro reaches into the fold of his gi, grasping his pack of cigarettes. He bends his knee to tap the pack on it then removes the stick poking out with his teeth.

Tracking the movement, Lloyd frowns. "You probably shouldn't smoke anymore, especially if you wanna be a ninja. It weakens your respiratory strength, and you really need that for—"

"Relax, Nurse Twerp. It's my last pack." He stuffs it back in his shirt, fishing in his pocket for his lighter. "That's the deal between me and the old man," he sighs as he lights the cigarette.

"Really? I'd figure he'd put his foot down."

"Oh, he did," when the training sessions began, "but he's not my boss, so how I quit is my business."

Lloyd keeps staring at him while he takes the first drag, his nose crinkling at the smoke. "So you're actually gonna quit? Cold turkey?"

"You don't 'cold turkey' cigarettes, Lloyd. That's asinine." He puffs again, a long drag, then summons a breeze to carry the smoke away from them, pointing at his cousin with the two fingers holding the cigarette. "And I'm _not_ addicted, so shut up."

Lloyd puts his hands up, surrendering. He crosses them over his knees and spins what might be a huge bolt through his metal elbow, fidgety.

It's probably rude to ask, but damn it, Morro wants to know. "You didn't say how that happened."

The fidgeting abruptly stops for a moment before starting up again, a little faster and less precise. His eyes closed, Lloyd tries, "It, um, we..." A huff, and, "So, one of my dad's, like, fired generals pushed me off a roof about a month after you— Um, yeah, and I guess it dislocated my shoulder. I dunno. It just hurt a lot. I think she could tell, and she, she had a sword." A pause. "Not a katana. This thing was more like a scimitar, had a deeper curve to it," he continues, arching his arm to represent the weapon, "and she said, 'I'll take care of that for you.' So...so she- did."

Morro knocks ash off his cigarette. "Jesus," he breathes, bringing it back to his lips.

"Yeah. I mean, I barely remember it. They took me up to Dad's old house on this mountain, and like, I'm just lucky. The green element and all. I was more or less fine the next day. More, uh, more on the less side, but yeah." He stares at the forest, squeezing his arm. "I remember that he stayed up with me all night. He felt like hell about it."

Morro tosses away his suddenly spent cigarette and grinds it into the dirt. "'Hell,' huh? Guess it's a start."

Lloyd nods with a small, wry laugh, taking a moment before he says, "He's been grabbing every chance he has to show that he's changed, and of course I appreciate it. Honestly, I'm freaking thrilled, but..."

"But you still don't know what to think?"

"Yeah, in a way. I didn't think at all really. About what things were gonna be like," he waves his hands in the theatrics of it all, "after I 'stopped Garmadon.' It's so crazy, you know? I had no idea that someone can actually come back from all the bad they've done and want to make up for it."

Morro fights the urge to light up another cigarette. "Well, I'm pretty sure you don't need me to tell you this, but don't take it for granted."

"That's the last thing I'm doing."

"Good." It occurs to him then that he hasn't really heard any news on the man, not for six months at least. There's no way he could be keeping quiet even with the change of heart. "What's he up to these days?"

"He— Um, yeah, he went to jail," Lloyd intones as casually as he can, leaning away as he finds some totally interesting cloud to stare at.

Morro bursts into laughter.

"What?"

"That," he coughs, reigning it it. "That's just so normal, dude."

"No...it isn't."

"Like a third of the kids in this country have a dad in prison. Yes, it is."

Lloyd looks at him with a hint of horror and a whole lot of sad. "Do you ever...hear yourself?"

They fall silent. Now it's not just tense but awkward, too.

Lloyd gets annoyed with it, saying, "I think he wants me to help you with your element."

Morro rips up grass, _really _itching for another smoke. "So that's what you are on the team? Mr. Guru extraordinaire come to teach me the elemental ways?"

"Yeah, kinda."

Sighing, Morro swings his arm in another gesture to get a move on.

Letting Lloyd head back first, he picks up the cigarette butt and stuffs it in his pocket to throw away later.

In the training yard, Lloyd faces him. He's thoughtful and carries an air of something Morro's not been able to see on him before except on TV. Experience. Actual, dare-he-say knowledge on a subject. "I guess, um, let's start with gauging your current skill level. Let me see how you incorporate wind into your fighting."

Hmm, that's an obnoxious wave of déjà vu.

Morro lazes into his stance, commanding the wind to trail the ground.

He's actually surprised when Lloyd attacks him first. He _won't_ be forced onto the defensive that fast, though, so he somersaults, using his power to keep out of reach, and whacks the back of Lloyd's head with it. He stumbles but recovers without falling, turning around to find Morro waiting for him on the roof.

"You think I'm gonna make this easy?" Morro taunts, dropping back down. "Let's see how _good_ you are!"

Laughing as he runs in, Lloyd sends swift jabs, mixing it up with a low kick, all dodged. His metal arm's faster, and he seems to favor it. There's no reason to engage it physically. Morro punches a high-powered cone of wind at his elbow, throwing off his aim, then sends another into his torso. He could block an attack like that from anyone else having to use their bare fists, but not this.

"Nice!" he praises from the ground, wheezing a little.

Glad _somebody's_ having fun.

"One sec," Lloyd says, working his arm. Standing, he shakes it out and rolls his shoulder. "Okay—"

"I told that idiot friend of yours to not let anything else happen, but lo and behold," Morro says out of the blue, even to himself. He shoots a weak wind at Lloyd's right shoulder for emphasis.

Glancing to it, Lloyd's joy fades instantly. "Kai had no control over that. Leave him alone. He doesn't have anything to do with this."

Well, in for a penny. "You're right, because it's just you." He rears back, yelling, "It's always only about you, isn't it?" as he summons a new gale.

"H-hey—" Lloyd gets out before it crashes against him. Arms over his face, he's scooted backwards a little before it picks him up, blowing him back. He grabs the training dummy, using it to swing to his feet after the wind dies. "Tell me what's wrong," he pleads.

Oh, he wants to know! The perfect defender wants to know. Throwing a blast on each stressed word, Morro voices the pain he's stewed in for almost a year. "It was _your_ secret, but it became _my_ problem. Then it became my _pointless burden_ when you told everyone in the whole freaking world!"

Lloyd doesn't seem to get it, shaking his head. Hands spread, he says, "I _had_ to, Morro. I couldn't— Nothing was gonna change if we kept doing things the same way."

"I don't care!"

He escalates their fight, putting Lloyd completely on the defensive. All he can do is run and try to avoid a power he can't see.

"I'm stronger, Lloyd! I _still_ have to be."

From the distance he's catching his breath at, Lloyd just, well, he isn't glaring really. The expression's too soft for that, but he grimaces, squinting from something other than the sun. He holds his arm close to his body, his shoulders trembling hard enough that it's visible. And what the hell is that? _Pity_?

"Don't look at me like that!" Morro shouts, swinging a downward slice of wind.

Lloyd takes the hit, falling, but he leaps up as Morro charges, hungry to feel flesh on his fists. He jumps left and right from the first few punches, ducking the last one. Morro whips around, the next hit flying. Lloyd catches his fist with his metal one and squeezes. It's not tight enough to hurt, but his little stun gun aims right at his face.

Hands behind his back, Wu steps onto the veranda behind Lloyd to be in Morro's line of sight.

He knows a warning when he's shown one.

And that's fucking _fine._

Ripping his hand back, he turns for the gate, storming to it. "_Don't_ follow me."

He catches his _family's_ exchange as he leaves.

"What happened to him, Uncle Wu?"

"Something that should have been dealt with many years ago."

* * *

Morro slams open the door he was fine with never seeing again.

"Oh wooow, the prodigal asshole returns!" Bansha trumpets from the couch.

"What's with the getup?" Wrayth asks, eyeing Morro's gi.

"You okay?" Ghoultar peeps.

Soul only grunts, nodding.

Without hesitation, Morro glares them all down and says, "I'll do it."

"What'd he say? I'm deaf, you know," Bansha quips, putting her hand to her ear.

"I _said_," Morro grinds, "that I'll do Yang's god damn request."

Wrayth's bumbled into his personal space before he even gets the words out, squeezing him in the worst hug he's ever got. "You're really brave," he says. "History will remem—"

"Stop _touching_ me," Morro snarls, shoving him away. "I'm not doing this for you."

"Then why?"

He glowers at the nosy moron, giving the others the same treatment in turn for good measure. They shouldn't ask because the reason doesn't matter.

"Okay then," Wrayth announces with a single clap. "We've got work to do."

* * *

First order of business is getting rid of the ninja costume.

The others provide him something they deem more appropriate for their 'team' — regular black street clothes, except for a dragon head broach. Yang's symbol, apparently. They also have a...makeup kit? White, gray, and faded green face paint. They plan to wrap bandanas around their freak-skull faces. Morro's is green and includes his cloak, if he wants it. He left it behind before.

"Kept it nice for you," Wrayth says with a smile.

"Okay, but why," Morro asks.

"Because we're friends, man, I—"

"No, why the disguises?"

Wrayth looks at him, his smile sharpening. "Because we're gonna commit a robbery."

Second order is getting that straightened out.

Soul has a special contact that he calls on some darkweb video chat. The person on the other end is a grizzled man with a robotic, red eye.

_"The name's also Brian,"_ he introduces for Morro's sake, casting an amused glance to Soul, _"but henceforth, all references to me will be by the code name Ronin. Ya' got that?"_

Every one of them is a crazy LARPer. Yep. "Got it."

"Did you confirm the target's location?" Soul asks. Mr. Professionalism.

_"Yeah, it's right where we expected. Sending you the schematics now. Lucky the big man's not in, but watch out for his security systems. He is one paranoid piece of shit."_

Morro takes a look when Soul gets everything printed out.

It's a volcano fortress. They're stealing from Uncle _Freaking_ Garmadon.

"This is what we're going after," Soul says, laying down a photo of a ceremonial knife. It seems heavy for its length with its curled pommel, wide guard, and elegant, curving blade.

"The Yin Blade. The master needs it for his work," Wrayth 'explains.'

"You're not gonna stab me with it, are you?" Morro can't help inquiring.

"No. Under no circumstances is Master Yang's host to be injured by this weapon," Soul warns.

"Ah."

_Apparently_, they don't have time to dick around, because after spending the rest of the day learning the schematics and forming a plan, the Day of the Departed is two days and a night from now. Yang's supposed to start his precious work then. He can't miss it, or he'll have to wait until next year. That's fine by Morro anyway; he doesn't want to wait either.

Third order is getting transportation to the volcano.

Wrayth corrects himself, saying, "We're committing two robberies," as he steers a little, stolen speedboat to the rest of them waiting on the dock.

Morro notes the anchored _Destiny's Bounty_ and an abandoned warehouse close by. This marina is less than a mile from the school. Guess he knows where the Ninja Force's real base of operations is. There's probably some very helpful mechs inside, but he keeps the knowledge to himself. Lloyd needs to stay minding his business for now.

It takes about an hour to reach their destination. In that lull, Morro stares out over the waves, gripping the rim of the boat to keep his hands from shaking.

Soul and Bansha are fighting over the steering wheel while Ghoultar toils with deciding who to root for, so Wrayth leaves them to it, making it his mission to bother Morro instead. "Getting seasick?"

Morro scoffs, laying his head down on his folded arms.

There's a hand on his back for a second before snapping away. After a minute, Wrayth says, "History _will_ remember you."

"I swear I'll haunt your ass if it doesn't."

"Please do," he jokes.

Morro chuckles with him. He still hates these people, the one beside him in particular, and he knows in an objective way that they're nothing but bad news for him. Manipulators. Sadists. _Freaks_ who preyed on him to satisfy their own goals, but... It doesn't feel like that anymore. He has this weird sense of being above the anger, suspending it for a calm something-else instead, because this is _his_ story now. It's bigger than anything he's ever done. The last thing, too, and his hands won't stop shaking.

Wrayth's only said what he had to. Been _kind_ to him to keep him on track. Morro doesn't care right now. He turns, leaning into the other's shoulder.

Wrayth stiffens. Then he presses his hand on Morro's hair. "Sorry we didn't just ask you," he mumbles. "The master said this was the only way."

"Try thinking for yourself sometime, huh?"

Wrayth laughs like, 'Sure. I'll get right on that,' and gives Morro a far more welcome hug.

Once they reach their destination, they hide the boat among some rocks and ready their disguises. Morro ripped off the cloak, leaving just the hood and some material around his neck, so it wouldn't get in the way. Bansha, Soul, and Wrayth brought their red, white, and purple jackets, but Ghoultar forwent such a full veiling. He only wanted to wear a dumb rice hat with his bandana.

Looking like absolute nutcases, they sneak in through the nearest access tunnel.

As they head down a long cavern corridor, Soul kindly reminds everyone of the security systems ahead: sensors for motion, heat, and light; fingerprint and retina scanners; voice command recognition; timed checkpoints; and of course, good old fashioned cameras and guards on rotation. They shouldn't have to worry about any of it. The number of people on location cut down by ninety percent last year, plus Soul owns nifty gadgets that make most of the tech obsolete. Wrayth has the biggest role — subduing the rest and extracting the target. He could do it all by himself, in fact, but Soul thought it'd be wise to have everyone go in case something went wrong. It _is_ Garmadon's home turf after all.

He has good instincts.

* * *

Lloyd's phone buzzes off its precarious placement on the bookshelf, landing on his nose. He almost declines the call, but the ID's directly from Dad's volcano. Well, this can't be good.

_"I'm sooo sorry about the late hour, General Number One—" _

He'd glare at the engineer if he weren't still half asleep. "Please stop calling me that," he moans.

_"Right, of course...Lloyd, sir, we seem to have a security breach here."_ The camera flips to one of her monitors showing a large, pulsing dot sitting offshore, five smaller ones exiting it. _"It appears to be intruders, so, um, help?"_

It _can't_ just be a coincidence, can it?

Springing out of bed, he activates the team's emergency signal.

* * *

Alarms and obnoxious, _"Intruders? In my sanctum? Get ready to die!"_ recordings blare overhead.

"What the hell did we trip?" Wrayth screeches over it.

"The boat's engine," Soul guesses. "He must have a wake detector and banned all water travel to the island since no one should be coming here anyway. I will kill Ronin!"

"_Damn it_!" Bansha shrieks at the nearest red light, bursting it, but Garmadon's voice continues shaming them for their 'profound foolishness.'

"We have to get outta here," Wrayth shouts.

"Home! _Home_!" Ghoultar whines, metallic hands covering his ears.

"No, we don't leave without the Blade," Morro yells. Everything of value including the stupid knife might be gone by morning. They can't afford to go on the big damn safari for it then. "Wrayth, run ahead of us and disable this shit. We'll keep going to the vault. Make _sure_ it's open."

He waffles between obeying and running away.

"Wrayth!"

"Yeah, you got it," he hollers, vanishing into his shadow. He takes off through one of the million crevices in the place.

"Let's go," Morro says, leading the way.

The vault rests in the back of a foyer with a high ceiling, its massive door locked tight. There's a control room with a windowed view of it above them where Wrayth should be. One security guard stares down at the them, blathering into a mic, not even knowing what hits him when Wrayth takes him out. Soon, the door clacks, whirring, then swings open.

Morro directs the others to file through the rows of advanced storage protecting a myriad of strange and doubtlessly powerful things. He's positive his uncle's keeping literal baby toys in at least two shelves, though.

In the back, they spot a glass case housing the Yin Blade. It's prominent there, a blacklight shining on it as it points its business end at the sky.

"Allow me," Bansha says, approaching it.

Soul halts her. "Clearstone," he informs, rubbing the case's edges. "Tougher than diamond." Because of course something with a creative name like that is. He kneels to inspect the keypad then attaches his hacker device to it, cycling through eight-digit codes in seconds. It catches on Lloyd's birth date.

Lloyd's.

Freaking.

Birth date!

Morro stops reeling as the glass door pops aside. Taking the honors for himself, he reaches for the knife, plucking it from its stand, and holds it up for the others to see. It's weird. The thing almost feels _charged_, an aura of something arcane that makes the hair on the back of his neck prickle. That figures, since it's—

A ball of ice hits his wrist, pinning him to the wall as it spreads down his arm. The knife skitters across the floor.

"Stealing," a robotic voice chimes. "The act of taking another person's property without permission or legal right to it."

"Sounds exactly like what they're doing," a bored one responds.

Of course. _Of course_ Lloyd and his trademarked Squad is the freaking cavalry.

Just the masters of Earth and Ice block the doorway, the first leaning against the frame with his arms crossed, the second tilting his head. Neither wears a mask because they don't need to anymore. And oh _man_, if that doesn't chase away the last of Morro's doubts.

Ghoultar crushes the ice as Bansha takes her battle stance. Soul, to no surprise, is nowhere in sight, having slipped behind the shelves. Unlike the other two, his fighting style requires a kind of finesse, and things just got more stupidly complicated.

"Jar Jar's mine," Bansha snarls.

Giggling, Ghoultar punches his fist into his palm and faces Cole. "The tough one. Yay."

Side-eyeing the knife, Morro's not sure about letting them handle the ninja, but he also doesn't trust either one to extract the target. Better standby and gauge the situation before he makes his next move. "It was C-3PO," he says to Bansha. "You're thinking of the meesa freak."

"Same," she starts, sucking in a deep breath. "_Difference_!" Her banshee scream races for Zane.

"Detecting enhanced sound w—" The walking P.I.X.A.L. doesn't dodge in time, _detecting_ that wave right in the face. He goes flying back into the foyer.

His buddy shouts, "Hey!" and charges at Bansha.

She sidesteps only to get out of Ghoultar's way. He's there in the blink of an eye, taking Cole's punch on his chest.

Reverberating bass rings off of metal, followed by the ninja's outcry of pain.

Completely silver, Ghoultar laughs, his heels buried in the stone floor. Unmoved.

Grinning like a maniac under his mask, Morro relishes in the ease washing over him. Yeah, he'll go retrieve that Blade now.

With it secured in his belt, he runs for the exit, but Zane's back, intercepting him with a wall of ice. It doesn't hold up against Bansha's sound. He has to wait a moment while she makes herself a problem the ninja can't ignore, but that's too long for Wrayth.

"This place is going into full lockdown," he says, materializing beside Morro in the corner he's taking cover in. "Give me the Blade."

"Why?"

"I can get it out of here without any trouble." He shakes his open hand, ushering Morro to hurry.

Yeah, that's probably a good idea. He's about to pass it along when his hair really does stand on end, electricity crackling. Sensing it too, Wrayth poofs as Morro leaps upwards with a burst of wind, both dodging the lightning bolt aimed for them. He lands on top of a shelf.

On the ground, two more of the ninja join the fight. Jay and Nya? Pretty sure that's their names. The girl's staring at him in surprise, slapping the dude's shoulder, and hisses, "Did you _see_ that? He flew!"

_Shit_. He can't use his element right now if he wants to conceal his identity.

Jay gears up for zap-attempt-number-two, but Wrayth saves him the trouble of dealing with it, jumping out of his shadow to attack Nya. "Go, Sky!" he shouts, fending off Jay's reprisal.

Nodding once, Morro hops from one shelf to the next. That's four pests now, so where's the last two?

"Listen, I know the DOTD's about to be here..."

In the foyer. Yep.

Kai points and laughs, continuing, "but _come on_."

God, he'd freaking love to airblast that jackass into the middle of next week. But as it happens, Lloyd's right beside him, his metal arm glinting in the light since his sleeve's been cut off. Makes room for the laser he shoots at Morro.

It becomes a mad chase, Morro dashing around the room, rolling under Lloyd's lasers, but Kai's fire herds him away from the corridor back to the boat, the two slowly closing in on him.

"You plannin' on going in circles forever, bud?"

Despite Kai's constant, _annoying_ taunts, Morro keeps his recognizable voice out of the equation.

"Aw, the spindly, silent type? How am I supposed to work with that?"

So far, Lloyd hasn't joined the one-sided banter. He just has a calculating look on his face.

Morro worries that it's the cloak giving away despite it being torn. That's not his actual problem, though, because they've got him cornered now, long funnels of fire on either side of him.

"Too much heat for ya'?"

Kai isn't trying to cook him — that'd be too barbaric for the oh so righteous ninja — it's the _heat_. He can't breathe. He's gonna suffocate and black out, making this whole excursion completely _pointless_. To hell with identities!

He shoves his wind at the fire, scattering it into wispy flames. Kai's too surprised to reignite it.

"No...Morro?" Lloyd breathes.

Morro sighs. Throwing off his hood and pulling down the mask, he says, "Guess the jig's up, huh."

"What? W-why? What are you _doing_?"

"What I have to."

He's not sure how he thinks Lloyd will react. It's probably safe to assume that the years of frustration built up by fighting his own father has something to do with his immediate decision to snap. "_Stealing_ from my dad? For what? _Why_? You—? Just, agh!" he shouts between punches. Morro refuses to give him anything but retaliating hits.

Kai lets them duke it out for a minute before he collects his wits, throwing support fireballs. Lloyd pushes him back to point, a subtle tell that he's so angry right now, he doesn't care if Morro gets burned.

That's fine. He'll just _break bones_ in return.

He buffers Kai's fire with wind like a body shield, and the moment he gets an opening, he swings his arms from his knees to the ceiling, blasting the idiot clear across the foyer.

Kai rolls to a stop and groans, dazed.

Morro can't bask in the satisfaction just yet, not with Lloyd's ruthless barrage of lasers. Damn, doesn't that thing run out of juice?

He might actually lose if he doesn't end this _now_, and that's appearing less possible by the second, but then Nya suddenly cries, "Wait, Jay, don't!"

Evidently, she's been dousing Wrayth's untouchable shadow with water, and her genius little friend makes the connection too late when Wrayth baits him to the puddle. The two fall as his lightning electrocutes them both. Inside the vault, Ghoultar punches Cole in the nose, and Bansha's flattened Zane, screaming almost point blank on his head, likely frying his circuits.

Conflicted, Lloyd abandons Morro to save his friends. Running into the vault, he shoots Bansha and Ghoultar. She goes down, but it's just a mosquito bite to him.

Not done in yet, Cole screams as he slams his clasped fists on the ground. The volcano reacts to his seismic wave in an instant, rumbling in indignation. His goal may be to drop boulders on Ghoultar because fragments of stone break off from the ceiling on either side of the vault, clearly controlled in how they do, but some of it's covering the door.

Ghoultar assesses the situation faster than Morro thought possible for him, grabbing Bansha and racing to the foyer so they don't get trapped. The chunks bouncing off him would probably kill him if it weren't for his metal body. Still, their velocity must be his limit because he collapses the second he makes it out.

That just leaves Morro and a recovered Kai to finish the fight.

And Soul.

That's his silhouette in the dust creeping up behind Kai.

Morro distracts him, calling, "Hey, remember what I said you'd need to do the next time you failed to watch Lloyd's back?"

"Uh?" Kai gapes, but his eyes widen with sudden realization.

"Watch _yours_!" he shouts, sending a whirlwind just as Kai turns away from him. It throws him forward against Soul's chest. Too slow, he tries to kick free of the arms cinched around him at the same time Soul exhales a toxic cloud in his face. The green miasma envelopes them, causing Kai to choke on a gag.

Soul gives a short, dark chuckle, dropping him. Crouching on one knee by the convulsing ninja, he declares, "Now you will know why they call me the Soul Archer."

"H-hey, buddy, c'mere, c'mere, _nah_, _closer_, I wanna— wanna tell ya' something," Kai's rasping with a stupid grin as Morro crosses the distance. Soul kneels again to hear him, unafraid of any possible trick. "Nobody...asked," he wheezes. He laughs himself into a coughing fit and rolls one way, then the next, banging his head on the floor. He's arching his back as Soul leaves for the corridor, reaching blindly while Morro lingers.

He doesn't know what to do with the weird pit of anxiety in his stomach, so he stoops, muttering, "Don't say I didn't warn you," childish as it is.

Wrayth's got Ghoultar up, and with Bansha and the Blade in tow, they all hurry back to the boat.

"That was a perfect opportunity to apprehend the Green Ninja," Soul says thirty minutes out.

And as if whatever this feeling about Kai is wasn't enough, _that_ makes it exponentially worse. "Excuse me? Fucking _what_?"

"Shut up, everyone _shut up_ and hold your breath!" Wrayth bellows.

A searchlight from a black shape in the stars is heading straight for them, Morro recognizing it as the _Bounty_ a second before everything goes dark.

* * *

Lloyd runs to Kai, shouting for him.

He'd been moving when Lloyd first saw him, but it took Cole with his sprained wrist another five minutes to clear a space they both could fit through. Now he's just lying there, murmuring gibberish. A green film coats his eyes, so murky that it hides his irises. Lloyd hates the sick dread he gets looking at it.

Across the room, Jay rolls over. He crawls to Nya and shakes her, babbling apologies.

"Is she okay?" Lloyd asks, anxious to run to her, too.

"I-I dunno, she, she, she, Nya? Oh gosh, please, I'm so sorry, I wasn't thinking," he chatters, sitting her up.

"M'okay..." she finally mumbles. They both have burns on their faces, probably everywhere, but hers look ten times worse.

Cole kicks his way to their side of the rubble. Zane hangs off his shoulder, unresponsive but thankfully not powered down. "Repair state," is all he says, wincing. His nose might be broken with how much it's bleeding, and all his bruises...

Trying to stay calm, Lloyd turns back to his brother sweating and drawing in rapid breaths. They've taken bad hits before but never at the same time in all of fifteen minutes. Who _were _those people?

That's the second thing out of Lloyd's mouth when Uncle Wu picks them up, right after he screeches that Morro was _with_ them.

"If you had _read my book_," he bites back, "you would understand. What did they steal?"

Brushing off Uncle Wu's attitude with his own, Lloyd answers, "A knife. I don't know why. Dad wouldn't tell me what it was."

His uncle halts in his tea preparation then gives a long sigh, fingertips skirting his forehead. "Lloyd, those people serve a dark master, and now it appears your cousin has become mixed up in their plans."

"Looked way more than just 'mixed up' to me," Cole grumbles.

Lloyd starts to respond to that, but Kai _screams_ at the top of his lungs like he's auditioning for a horror movie. Jay covers his ears as he runs away, and it even reaches Zane who twitches into appalled awareness, staring down at him on the cot.

"W-what did they _do_ to him?" Nya yells, on the verge of crying. She reaches out to smooth his messy hair as a comfort for him, but he flinches away, terrified of her hand.

"It's a neurotoxin which is forcing him to see his worst fears," Uncle Wu explains, somber. "The serpent that produced it was hunted to extinction forty years ago, but..." Sighing again, he shakes his head. "Masters of poison are a frighteningly powerful sort."

"But you have a cure, right? That's what you made?" Cole demands.

"No, this will only let him rest and order his visions," he says, pouring the tea. Ushering Nya out of his way, he continues, "The full treatment will take a few hours to prepare. Lloyd, help me."

Lloyd rushes to join his uncle on the other side of Kai's cot. He feels awful for it, but he has to clamp his titanium fist around Kai's wrists, supporting him with the other, while Uncle Wu keeps a grip on the back of his neck.

"N-n— no, n- sss-" Shaking, he hacks the tea, sending a spray of it all over his face, but they get enough in his belly that he slowly relaxes. Lloyd lets him hold of the cup when he reaches for it and rubs his shoulders until he's drank the last of his sedative, then Uncle Wu guides him to lie down. Within seconds, he drifts off to sleep.

"I've made a _foolish_ mistake, nephew," Uncle Wu says, the most defeated Lloyd's ever heard him. He's not talking about Kai. "We should not have let him go. I...I thought he needed time with his friends, to journey with them as you did, but I underestimated the aims of that group."

"You know what they want?" Lloyd states more than asks.

"What every elemental breaker wants. If you do not put a stop to their plan, the apocalypse will be upon us."

And that's exactly why Lloyd kept his gi. The battles for the world didn't end with Garmadon.

He's not a hundred percent positive where Morro and his gang will go; however, there's no way he wasn't gonna follow his cousin the other day, so he's got at least one idea.

Everyone's probably gonna kill him for this, but with their lives and safety on the line because of yet another rogue family member, it's _his_ responsibility. He calls his dragon to meet him at the _Bounty_. When he spots it flying in, he leaps unseen off the deck.

* * *

"If you don't explain _what the hell_ you're talking about," Morro shouts the second he can breathe again, "I'm gone!"

"It's _okay_," Wrayth says, panting. He's weak from shrouding the entire boat, unable to dodge the punch he gets in the mouth. Yelping, Ghoultar dumps Bansha's comatose body to catch him.

Morro whips around to Soul. "'_Kidnap'_ Lloyd?" he interrogates, stalking two steps closer.

"His element is required for the spell to revive Master Yang," Soul responds as if it's just a simple matter of fact, his eyes dark, daring Morro to try that on him.

Morro slaps him with a sharp blast of wind and sea foam, almost knocking him overboard. "I _thought_ that's what _I'm_ for!"

"A beacon," Wrayth spits before Soul can retaliate. "Like how that Ultimate Weapon thing was a big fat signal to call down the cat god." Ghoultar stands him upright. "Totems aren't strong enough," he adds, working his jaw.

Taking deep breaths, Morro glares first at him, then the deck, then on out to the ocean.

He has two options now: he can either capsize the boat and drown them all, or he can suspend his instinctive fury and _think_ for a minute.

Lloyd's green hippie bullshit is beyond useless, not like wind or shadow, but it makes sense to use it the way they claim. Though he doesn't trust them, he can believe it.

The next question then is why would he ferry his own cousin into the hands of these psychopaths? And if he does, what will Yang do? Release him? _Kill_ him?

Morro's betting on the latter because _knows_ evil. He's so intimately familiar with the face of it that it's written in his DNA, so he never once believed Yang was up to anything good. And when he left the dojo, he decided he's fine with it.

Wu seemed to think he could be a hero, but whatever brain-dead ideal Lloyd has to fight for a world that hated him just doesn't exist in Morro. He tried. He really did try to find it like Sensei asked, but he's felt like an empty shell of a person for as long as he can remember.

It's a lot of room for a ghost to fill. A dead man with Morro's face and _power_ he'll use to punish the world. _Poetic_.

Maybe Lloyd will die, or maybe he'll get free and fight and stop Yang, but Morro won't know a thing about it either way. He'll be gone. Besides, his selfish cousin was right. Nothing changes if he's always doing everything the same way.

He can't keep protecting Lloyd.

"Fine," he says, not looking to the others.

"Really, you're—?" Wrayth starts.

An engine some distance overhead makes them all duck. A twirling dragon. Lloyd's damn dragon mech.

"Where's he going?" Ghoultar wonders, waving as it flies towards Sensei Wu's ship.

Morro has a sneaking suspicion that he knows exactly where.

A minute later and back to her senses, Bansha rages, "You led him to our house?!"

"You think I have any control over what he does? That little shit hasn't done what he's told since he started walking!"

Wrayth attempts to silence them, saying, "Hey, someone might hear you."

"Sound doesn't carry over the ocean!"

"I'm pretty sure it does..."

"_Who's_ the master of sound here?"

"Listen to me," Soul interrupts, "this here is another opportunity. With the state we left his team in, he is most certainly going alone, hoping to catch us unawares."

"Then we better be ready," Wrayth says.

Back on the island, they drive straight to the apartment. As they get close, they keep a look out for places Lloyd might have landed his mech, but if he's around, he's good at concealing it. The whole ride, Soul's been filling vials with his saliva and attaching capped dart needles to them.

"Here," he says, passing one to each of them. "We don't know who will be in the best position to disable him."

Morro holds his up to eye level, remembering how it had left Bansha paralyzed for hours. He's no expert, but she almost asphyxiated when her exposure had just been a literal taste compared to the amount here. "This will kill him."

"No, not if Wrayth's intel is sound," Soul responds. "Trust me, Skytoucher, we have no intention of harming him."

Funny. They were all too eager to harm the other ninja, but it's not Morro’s problem.

He fists the vial, pocketing it.

Nothing appears out of place at the apartment, though that's not a surprise. They wrap the Yin Blade in a cloth, allowing the hilt to be a bit exposed, and set it on the desk in Morro's room. He opens the window, having a perfectly casual smoke, and once he's done, they pretend to go to bed.

Part of Morro hopes Lloyd doesn't turn up, but a bigger part — or at least stronger — can't help feeling giddy at the thought of setting a story into motion. It leaps for joy when the windowsill creaks. The first part fights him, telling him to just stay in bed and let Lloyd have the knife, but stupidly enough, it's _Lloyd_ who makes it lose.

His metal hand smacks down on Morro's shoulder, the other one at his lips, shushing. "Come on," he whispers. "We're getting out of here."

Elbowing him, Morro whispers back, "You need to leave right the hell now," pushing onto his feet. Well, maybe it's not defeated yet.

"Not without you," Lloyd insists.

"I belong here."

"How can you say that? Morro—"

"Just take the stupid knife and go," he almost yells.

Shaking his head, Lloyd turns his back on him and picks up the Blade with his left hand.

That easily, it's his chance. He touches the vial in his pocket, but he can't get his stupid nerves to let him go.

Oblivious, Lloyd faces him again, glaring at the knife then up at Morro. "Man, just let me help you."

He might as well have slashed Morro. He snaps inside, forgetting to keep his voice low. Gesturing in fury, an emphasis on his words, he erupts, "You have to stop _caring_, Lloyd. Stop _sticking up_ for people who don't give a _shit_."

"What _is_ it with you?" Lloyd challenges, beyond exasperated now. "Why do you always have to be such a jerk?"

"God, where do I fucking start? Oh! Maybe if people didn't throw me out with nothing for protecting your sorry ass—"

"No one asked you to protect me! You don't have any idea how bad she feels about that. If you'd just— _ah_!"

They both look down at the disembodied hand poking out of the shadows on the floor, stabbing a dart into Lloyd's ankle.

"What...?" Kicking at Wrayth, he staggers away and rushes to escape out the window, his leg dragging. He's gonna break his damn neck and die if he does that, so grabbing him, Morro whips him over onto the bed where he can't possibly hurt himself. Still fighting, he tries hard to stand. The poison works fast, though, so deadly effective that he's toppling forward instead, the Blade slipping onto the floor.

On impulse, Morro catches him, holding him upright.

Lloyd gasps as if he's trying to say something and fixes Morro with a look of wide-eyed betrayal. It scrunches up into terror, his breaths shortening with each draw. Then his expression melts as his body goes slack. His eyes don't even close.

Struck by how horrified that makes him, Morro shoves Lloyd away as he backs up against the desk.

Wrayth rises from his shadow. His wary stare echoes Lloyd's, but it's different enough. Distrusting. As if that's fair.

"I-I was gonna do it," Morro hurries to say.

Bursting into the room, Bansha exclaims, "Did we get him?"

Behind her, Soul goes to Lloyd, splaying his fingers on his chest. After a moment assessing the reach of his poison, he says, "Well done, Wrayth."

"It was all Morro. He made a great distraction."

Hearing that, Morro backs away further, stopping at the wall.

"Alright, let's—" Bansha starts before she yelps, dropping to the floor as Lloyd's laser about hits her again.

His _robot _arm. He can still get a brain signal to it.

Soul dives to pin it, pressing down with his full weight, but there's the sound of mechanical strain as it lifts. It's stronger than him. He punches Lloyd in the head with the back of his fist, stopping him for a second at most. The laser fires again, almost grazing Soul's temple. Ghoultar rushes in, his hands turning the same shade of silver as the arm. He yanks it flat on the bed and twists, starting to _wrench it off_.

"Stop!" Wrayth shouts. Muscling between them, he shadows through the port at Lloyd's shoulder, unlocking the arm from the inside. With a hiss of air, it detaches.

And that's it. That's all the fight he can put up. They...the others stuff him into the back of Wrayth's jeep. Morro wants shotgun, but Ghoultar's so god damn big that it's his assigned seat.

Nope, Morro gets to sit between Soul and Bansha and somehow not just hear but _feel_ Lloyd struggling to breathe.

At some point, he finally shut his damn eyes. He might've passed out, but he's giving barely vocal groans as Ghoultar carries him into the restaurant now. Bansha moves one of the stray chairs to the center of Yang's circle. Soul's ready with a rope. The last inside, Wrayth sets Lloyd's arm on a table.

Morro has no idea why they even brought it.

"You okay?" Wrayth asks, watching him watch them.

Morro smirks, nodding.

"Bet he's getting cold feet," Bansha comments, scowling.

"I'm not," he bites.

Neither seem convinced.

Soul crouches behind Lloyd's chair, tying off the rope. "Master," he says like a prayer, laying down the Yin Blade. "Everything is ready." He exits the circle as that bright light from before overwhelms the room, dimming soon enough.

Floating there, Yang observes Lloyd up and down with a cruel smile.

Morro takes slow, casual steps towards the bathroom, stomps down the tiled hallway before the turn, then dashes to the nearest trash can because a toilet isn't close enough.

If only he could throw his nerves out the same way.

He stumbles to the line of sinks and rinses his mouth, panting. He's been _over this_ already. What happens to Lloyd isn't his problem. He got into this all by himself. He didn't _have_ to show up and fight them. He should've just stayed at home if he didn't want to be ripped apart.

Morro coughs, staring at his reflection. The ghost painted on his face. He smudged the green into his eyes, amplifying the way they're already ugly and sunken.

This is what he's gonna be if he goes through with it.

He _can't_. Not yet.

Ducking his head, he scrubs away the paint. The green's still there, so he ducks again, scraping and pressing in his knuckles to the point of pain.

Lloyd deserves everything coming to him, but not like this.

How's he supposed bail out his idiot cousin this time? He'll think of something. Put the plan on hold for another year if he has to. Somehow. But first, this stupid paint. He wets his hands some more, glancing to the mirror just in time to see Bansha behind him, winding back a pipe.

No time to even curse, he dodges her swing, the glass shattering instead of his skull.

"We've worked _too hard_ for you to—"

She doesn't get the rest of her shriek out because he slams her with wind as he runs to the hallway. Expecting one of them to be waiting for him, he uncaps the dart he still has, going low around the corner and jabbing it into someone's — Soul's — thigh. Being that it's his own poison, probably slow to affect him if at all, Soul chases him to the dining area. In a place like this, though, Morro has the advantage. He generates gales that pick up the chairs and tables, turning them into bludgeons that bury Soul.

Ghoultar. He has to watch out for—

He twists away from the flash of metal flying at him. Leaping, he slides over a countertop, keeping Ghoultar at a distance, and hurtles wind back at him.

Damn, he's _heavy._

Screaming with power, Morro multiplies the strength of his wind until Ghoultar's blown through a window, tipping Lloyd over in the process.

And finally, Wrayth comes out into the open. He's not fighting, automatically trying to reason with Morro as he leaves his defensive position. "I don't want to hurt you—" he says, stepping close.

That's his mistake.

Morro headbutts him, driving his knee into Wrayth's gut a moment after and punching him to the floor before he has the chance to shadow off. He still moves, so Morro scoops him with wind, throwing him across the room. He hits the salad bar and doesn't get up.

Yang's disappeared, but he's a ghost anyway. Nothing he can do to stop Morro from getting Lloyd out of here.

Doing his part, Lloyd squirms to get free. It's no use, even if he wasn't still mostly paralyzed, because this knot is damn _insane_. Morro's failing spectacularly at getting it untied, cursing the fact that they took Lloyd's sharp things and left them in the apartment.

Wait, _sharp things_, there's a freaking knife here. _Where_? "Shit!" he barks, not seeing it anywhere. Screw this. He's about to drag Lloyd out, chair and all, when total darkness once again blankets him.

Wrayth's voice echoes through the shroud, but it doesn't _sound_ like him because he says, "Just where do you think you're going with _my_ vessel?"

* * *

Kai yells out, darting to sit up. That dream. _That dream_—

"Kai? Hey, you're okay. You're gonna be fine."

Nya. She's nearby, sitting off somewhere he can't see. It's just green over everything, nothing but green and fear and the fragments of that violent nightmare.

Turning to her as best he can, he says, "Something..._really_ bad is gonna happen to him."

"Who?"

* * *

Morro radiates pure bloodlust from the pole he's been cuffed to.

"I have to say that this is a shock," Yang's remarking with Wrayth's mouth. He walks in his circle around Lloyd who's listing in a gradual regain of movement. "I'm so impressed you actually went through with it."

Morro's the _stupidest_ person on this earth. He truly the hell is. Stupid, stupid, stupid, _stupid_,_ stupid_!

Turning, Yang says, "Yes, _yes_, you're quite powerful, Morro, deeply tied to life as your element is, but why would I want second best when you've brought me the perfect vessel?" as if Morro doesn't get it.

Still, he scrabbles for any angle, grinding, "He's _not_, he—"

"_You _do not understand half the things you believe you do." Yang steps out of his temporary housing then, letting Wrayth collapse. As he crawls to Bansha holding Soul, Yang flits over him to Lloyd's side. He's fully tangible now, drawing on the green element, and lays his hand on Lloyd's shoulder. "This boy here is far greater than a totem. More than simply being inextricably entwined with life, he has been made its master into whose hand," he makes a fist with the other, meeting Morro's eyes, "all the pieces fit."

Morro fights against his restraints, calling on the wind, but every time he does, the cuffs pulse with something that blocks his command.

Chuckling at his futile effort, Yang hovers in front of Lloyd. "I would've had him a year ago," he says, and through his transparent form, Morro can see him lift Lloyd's head, caressing his cheek with a thumb — _stop touching him!_ — "but the fire was on his side that night. Almost like how it was on yours," he looks back, "wasn’t it, son?"

"You—" Morro freezes for a moment then renews his struggle. _The fire_. The _convenient_ fucking fire that left him with nowhere else to go. He should _die_ just for how much of a blind imbecile he is. "_You_ killed them! Bastard!"

"Oh, don't be such a dramatic child. I freed you from your burden."

"It was mine to deal with!"

"Because you thought things could one day be different?" Yang answers, leaving Lloyd to stand as near to the line as he can. "I understand that you've been thinking about _change_ quite a lot. You should know that you're forgetting that such a thing requires a catalyst; what was once unknown must become known." Getting up in Morro's face, he asserts, "And Morro, your parents knew _exactly_ who you are."

Looking through him to Lloyd, Morro feels the dual edge of Yang's words.

Lloyd, who fought and bled to find everything he ever wanted. Lloyd, _Green Ninja_, beloved son and teammate, moronic damn _savior_ who left all of it behind to save him.

And now Morro's trapped here with people glaring at him from afar, silent as the grave. They were never his friends. He knew it all along but didn't care. He refused to see the truth right in front of his eyes because he was so damn determined to have things his way, but they _took_ his parents.

His evil, pieces of—

They really weren't gonna change. He's not worthy of it.

"Leave..." Lloyd's tired voice orders, "him _alone_." He's opened his eyes, narrow and fearless.

"Ah, got your voice back then? Good," Yang says. He moves back to Lloyd, greeting, "Hello, young Garmadon. It's such an honor to meet you." Hands spreading at his sides, he asks, "Are you going to let me in without any trouble?"

"W-what?"

"Come now, I can possess you with ease,” Yang expounds, “but I won't have access to your incredible element without your permission."

Lloyd sputters, as close to really cursing as Morro's ever heard him. "You're crazy! I'm _not_ helping you."

Yang nods, saying, "Understandable." Without turning around, he gestures to Morro and says, "Ghoultar, my dear, he needs a little motivation."

Ghoultar's heavy mitts slam down on his shoulders. He leans close to Morro's ear, mumbling, "Sorry."

"G-get your—" Choking, he's cut off by those hands locking around his neck. They squeeze, relentlessly tightening, arresting his desperate gasp. He jumps and thrashes, fighting to get out of Ghoultar's literal iron grip, but he's already seeing spots. His skin tearing as he yanks on the cuffs, he begs any wind at all to help him. To blow the whole roof off or just fill his lungs, _anything_. He gags on a shout- another gasp— _Nothing's_ getting through.

Muffled by the deafening blood rush in his head, Lloyd's screaming, "Stop! Stop it! _Please_! I get it, okay? You can have me!"

His fading vision blacks out completely for a few seconds after Ghoultar releases him. Crashing to his knees, he sucks down air and coughs it back up so hard, he's practically heaving spit on the carpet.

"Please...don't hurt him. I'll do whatever you want."

Morro tries to tell Lloyd to shut his stupid mouth, but his burning larynx won't cooperate.

"_Thank_ you," Yang chimes with a sarcastic bow. He glides up and over Lloyd, settling behind him, his own hands resting on Lloyd's shoulders. "Say it."

Lloyd looks Morro in the eye. His expression hardens, but it's sharp with determination, not anger. Determination and _trust_, like, like he—

_Why?_ How can he _expect_ that?

Morro wheezes, fighting the cuffs and the agony in his throat. "I can't," he coughs, "s-_save_ you—"

Fear bleeding through his trust, Lloyd blinks away the shimmer in his eyes and smiles, suddenly humming the tune to an old rock song. Finishing the chorus, he straightens, closes his eyes, then says, "Okay."

Yang takes a step forward, vanishing into Lloyd's body.

Nothing happens for a split second, but then he throws his head back towards the ceiling, yelling and writhing. Soul has to run up to steady the chair. Outside, the wind rages. Morro can feel it swirling in a tornado around the building, responding to the primal _wrongness_ happening right in front of him.

"_No_! Yang!” Everything's supposed to be over and done with now!

Lloyd goes quiet, slumping on the rope. Then he's laughing in a way he's never been able to before.

Morro stops struggling, too, only staring.

Howling wind blasts against the windows, beating without mercy on his brain.

_What has he done?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i haven't updated my other fic since october...so i really need to focus on that omg


End file.
